Here Today and Gone Tomorrow, Without a Yesterday
by Eladriewen
Summary: A month after Harry has pulled out of his Voldemort-induced coma, he goes missing. A grief-stricken Sirius Black struggles for hope, while everyone else struggles for answers. Sequel to NG, NF, aNLG. FINISHED
1. The Sense to Let Go

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Author's Note to New Readers: This story is the sequel to my Sirius Black story Never Gone, Never Forgotten, and Never Letting Go. To better understand **this **story, I would advise you to read the prequel first.

Author's Note to Friends: Hello, and welcome back! Here is the second part of the Black-Potter family line series. I'm starting this one because it seems no one is highly interested in W.o.W. anymore, and I'm going to need a story in which I can be constantly fed reviews so that I can keep writing.

Summary: A month after Harry has pulled out of his Voldemort-induced coma, he goes missing. A grief-stricken Sirius Black struggles for hope, while everyone else struggles for answers.

Kidnapped right before his godfather's eyes, Harry struggles to survive the merciless torture of Voldemort and his followers. Will his friends and newfound family save him, or is Harry on his own again?

While fighting memories of the past, and fears for the future, Sirius Black demands to become part of the team that is searching for his godson. A mysterious contact is leading the Order around by the nose. Who is this person? Are they reliable? More importantly, is Harry alive?

Warning: This story consists of numerous flashbacks. I will try to be as consistent and clear as possible, but if things get confusing bare with me. I'll do my best to make this story fun for you and me. (smiles)

* * *

The Present...

Sunken eyes stared into a dying pile of embers in the hearth. There was some comfort to be found for him in this growing darkness, Sirius observed, as he sat now in his study. A small fire burned in the grate at his feet, but it was not enough to give off sufficient light or warmth. Just as well, Sirius believed. Such things had no place in his life anymore.

Elongated shadows of his surrounding possessions and heirlooms swayed as the small fire danced its mystical, sumptuous waltz, and silence echoed mercilessly in this seemingly cavernous room. The house itself was cavernous to Sirius these days. It had become incredibly empty after the recent events in his life. The love that once filled each and every room was gone. All that existed now was cold fear that choked the air and walked the halls like guests that simply refused to go home. Time after time, Sirius found himself encountering those unwanted entities. These constant shadows that he lingered in, and the ever consuming anxiety, was turning him into a monster. The past few weeks had been worse than all thirteen years in Azkaban, for within the walls of this house Sirius was allowed to physically revisit all the chambers of Grimmauld Place. His mind able to easily recall every lingering memory, every moment shared with his godson within these walls.

And if the silence was not there to mock him, his past was.

Sirius groaned, allowing his head to fall into his knees, now brought up to his chin. He had refused the chair and taken a seat upon the hard, wood floor; his back leaning against the leg rest of his preferred seat. Shoulder length, black hair hung in tangled bunches around his wan face. It had been days since Sirius had last eaten a real meal, yet his stomach didn't growl with hunger. The shaking of his hands and legs he mistook for nerves, not malnutrition. He was in a precarious situation with both his body and mind, but Sirius was far from noticing. His thoughts had been far too distracted of late.

Long moments passed, and Sirius only drifted further in the enveloping, comforting silence. Hypnotized by the dance of the flames, he did not hear the soft tap of light footsteps coming down the hall. His mind was millions of miles away, cast to the four winds in hopes of picking up some sense of what he had lost. For hours he had sat here before these glowing embers, hoping against all logic that somehow things would fall into place. Hoping that things would turn out all right, and soon shift back to normal. His spirit was nearly destroyed. The rage that built in him was only swallowed by this indescribable grief that he could not fight. Sirius was losing. He was losing a battle that he could never have dreamed of wining.

"Sirius?" said a raspy voice.

The man didn't budge. He was used to being addressed with this tone. A tone that was filled with grief, pity, and had the weight of a voice which was being uttered in the house of a dying man. A dying man? How Sirius felt so much like a dying man. If life had any mercy, it might have dealt him such a fate as well.

"Sirius?" the voice called again. Still, he did not acknowledge the speaker. The dying embers of his once comfortable fire were still far more magnificent, far more reassuring than the face of a sympathizing friend. How Sirius hated them all. How he wished that they would just go away. Why could he not have his peace?

"Sirius?"

Perhaps if he just kept silent, he'd go away. Perhaps if Sirius just kept staring into that dancing blaze, Remus would go back to his room to toss and turn in his nightmares. Sirius wanted to be left to his own without company that constantly dealt in false hopes.

"I know you can hear me."

Sirius swallowed. The fire was so beautiful. So comforting. So tempting. What did it feel like to be consumed in something so exotic? How fast would it act? Fast enough?

"If I can hear you then why do you keep calling my name?"

There was a pause.

"I had hoped you'd look at me."

The man on the floor did not respond. He didn't feel like looking at anyone. It was all the same after a while. The features changed, the eyes changed, the hair changed and the voices changed, but in their eyes was reflected the same thing. Pity. Grief. Hopelessness. He had tired of it long ago, and now Sirius simply refused to look at anyone. It made things easier on him.

"Will you?"

Sirius shook his head. A long stream of air hissed through Remus' teeth: the sound of disappointment. Too bad Sirius didn't give a damn if Remus was disappointed or not.

Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

Remus moved into the chair nearest his friend and allowed his gaze to fall upon the man with the most piercing glare he could muster. Considering Remus was such a laid back, calm man, it didn't amount to much. The only time someone cowered before Remus was on the night of the full moon. That night was a long way off. Right now, Sirius was going through his own metamorphosis, and it was Remus' job to comfort him. Or at least get his mind off of things.

A task that was proving impossible under the most optimistic light. To Remus, it was damnation. The house itself seemed to have sunken into a state of depression. Sirius, it appeared, had only gone with it. Not that he'd put up much of a fight.

"You're going to die if you continue on like this."

Sirius continued to stare into the fire. There was no reaction beyond those sightless eyes. There was nothing. What Remus beheld was the shell of a man who's soul had been ravaged, burned away by the wear of time and the numerous blows of disappointment. The image was beyond sad, or even pitiful. There was no word to describe what had become of this creature that sat before his eyes.

"If you care."

Silence, save for the crackling of the fire that was growing weaker and weaker by the second. As it did so, Sirius seemed to become even more enveloped in its glow. Orange light cascaded over his otherwise ashen face. It was the only vision of color that Sirius' countenance had been exposed to in weeks. The change was stifling, regardless of how unnatural the hue might have been.

For long moments Remus merely stared into that face that held no sign of life. How many things that were happening behind those eyes, he could only guess. Sirius was not as dead to the world as he might seem. He could fool others, but not the person who knew him longest and best. Second best, if he wanted to count another. But they weren't here now.

"You can't go on like this."

The hell he couldn't. Remus knew better than to think like that. Sirius sighed, but inwardly. He'd go on any damn way he pleased. It wasn't like he had something to live for anymore. This house, these rooms, they were all infected with memories that Sirius would never be able to escape. Unlike his days with James, these memories were too recent, and too meaningful to just turn away from to never look back upon. Sirius couldn't pack these days away in a box to pull out again whenever he felt it necessary. These days were the times that would define the rest of his existence. These days were supposed to be the most meaningful ones of his life, because he had been helping to form another. But they'd been cut short, just like everything else.

"You can't blame yourself."

Why not? It had been his fault, after all. If Sirius had been there he could have prevented this. He could have stopped it. He might have been able to even capture those responsible.

Yet all these things ideas hollow. It was pointless to dwell on possibilities, when in reality Sirius had failed. Failed...again.

Had he done something wrong somewhere in his life? Was he just not meant to know happiness? Things had been going so well. Why did they have to end?

Remus stood to leave, deeming this task futile. "If what they say is true, you have to let go."

Silence.

Sirius watched the last bits of the embers die. The room was suddenly extinguished into blackness, save for the few red heat spots that still lingered in the grate.

"I don't know how."

Remus sighed and turned to face Sirius. Despite the darkness, he still had a strong sense of where the man was. "You know how, you're just not willing to do so yet. Some part of you is still holding on."

A pause.

"How do you know that?"

Another pause.

"Because if you weren't, you'd have died of grief by now."

Meaning he hadn't already? Sirius was slightly amazed. Somewhere along the line he'd convinced himself that he _had_ died at one point, and was now left to linger in this self-created hell. It made sense, but the idea of being alive...being alive when Harry was not...it just didn't seem to fit. It disproved everything that Sirius had come to create within himself. It defied his morals and went against his set of rules. Harry had to be out there...because Sirius' own heart was still beating.

"He's been gone for over a month now. They wouldn't have wasted time."

No, it wasn't true. Sirius buried his head in his knees once more, his arms wrapped beneath the bending joints of his knees. It couldn't be true. Sirius had lived for his godson. There was no way Harry could be dead if Sirius was still alive. It didn't make sense to his heart. This wasn't right. The world shouldn't have been allowed to go on! Damn it, why?

"It doesn't make sense."

Remus sighed. "Of course it does."

"You don't understand."

"No, I can't understand what you're going through."

A pause.

"Then why does everyone try?"

Remus frowned. "Try what?"

Another pause. This one longer. The darkness had not lifted, and the fire had now died out completely. Even the coals cast no lasting lights.

"To understand."

Shaking his head, Remus tried to swallow the rasp that crept into his voice...along with the tears that crept into his eyes.

"They never will. What Harry meant to us will never amount to what he meant to you. We are all panged, Sirius, but none of us as much as you."

The fire was dead. Wintry darkness surrounded him. It wasn't right. It couldn't be. The world couldn't go on without Harry. It defied everything Sirius had foolishly built up in himself.

"Goodnight Remus."

That finalized it. Remus slipped out of the study, the door clicking shut behind him. Sirius stayed, wallowing in the shadows of his psychological prison; still unaware of the darkness of the physical one.

_

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_

Once again, I tell you who read this: This story is a sequel to my story Never Gone, Never Forgotten, and Never Letting Go. Before you read this, please, please(!!!) go and read the prequel. Thank you,

Ela,


	2. Fear

The Past...

"Still haven't gotten rid of that sinus infection I see?" Harry asked with a sympathetic laugh. Sirius had stumbled as though in a drunken stupor down the stairs just a few seconds before, sneezing his brains out. His hair was wet from having just come out of the shower, and it was dripping down his black, unfastened robes to leave thin streams of cold water down his arms and back. His black slacks and white button up shirt beneath were also wet. "Lord, no wonder you're sick."

"I thought I was the adult here," Sirius argued between two more sneezes. He collapsed into the chair at the head of the kitchen table. A few more sneezes and a groan later, he found himself being served a bowl of soup.

"You were until about a day ago."

"What happened then?" Sirius asked, still not certain why he was being fed by his godson.

"You got sick and refused to do anything about it."

Sirius groaned again. "So?"

"So? So you're going to suffer a role reversal until you get better, _that's _what."

Trying to laugh, Sirius spooned through some beef barley stew. Where the hell had Harry learned to cook so well? Part of him was grateful for the services his aunt and uncle had made Harry pay during his stay with them, because he had proved to have some excellent culinary skills that were highly appreciated during the days when Sirius was at a loss for what to put in the oven...or when both of them were getting sick of order out. Chinese was about the only thing either one of them could stomach these days, and even that was a questionable substance.

"Thank you," Sirius sighed in a quiet voice. He didn't enjoy being the one getting taken care of. It wasn't Harry's job to do what he was doing. Although the young man didn't object, Sirius still couldn't help but feel bad about it. His godson took a seat next to him, his own bowl sitting before him, as well as a sandwich. Barbequed chicken and cheese on wheat bread, it looked like.

"Eat." Harry started to nibble on his sandwich while Sirius ate his soup. Out of the corner of his eye, he'd make sure that Sirius actually was eating. Harry had learned quickly that his godfather would refuse food if he wasn't feeling well or was too emotionally distraught at the time, so it was his job to take care of Sirius just as much as it was Sirius' job to take care of him.

It was refreshing, in a sense. Harry had been afraid of being the center of attention while living with Sirius, but instead it had turned out (at least for now) as a joint operation. Sirius took care of Harry, and Harry took care of Sirius. It was a nice change of atmosphere for him and he really couldn't complain.

During his first week living with Sirius people were already starting to comment on how he had changed. The first Order meeting after Harry's 'moving in' became official, almost everyone had commented on how his personality had changed as well as his actions. He was still shy and quiet, but at the same time he appeared much more confident. Mrs. Weasley had even dared to state that he'd grown. Sirius had argued that he didn't know how Harry could have grown considering they'd been living off of junk food for the past week.

Of course, it wasn't just Harry that appeared to have made a change. When he had been carrying something for Mr. Weasley from the basement to the first floor study, he'd overheard a conversation between Bill and Charlie about Sirius.

"He's changed too. He's so much happier now," Charlie had said.

"Well, can you blame him? After being in Azkaban for thirteen years, then on the run for three, and almost losing Harry, he ought to be happy now."

"But you can see it, it's not just common-sense knowledge, you know? He looks healthier too."

There was a pause. "I know what you mean. It's like he's reverting back to his old self."

"Exactly!"

"And in the process, Harry's becoming the kid he should have been from the start.

Another pause, this one longer.

"Harry's had a tough life. I don't think he's going to completely change, but he's definitely going to be different from now on."

When the conversation turned to him, Harry left. He wasn't too interested in hearing about himself any more that day. Or ever, really. He'd be quite happy to live a normal life after this, although he knew it would never happen.

Still, for now, he could believe that he was normal. If only for a little while.

Normal? Harry thought as Sirius sneezed into his napkin once more. Maybe not normal, but better off than he had been in his life prior to now. Harry grimaced at the tear filled, strained grin of his godfather.

"Perhaps you should have Remus write to you about the meeting when you've finished?" Harry purposed.

There was a slight pause in which Sirius actually considered this young man's words. Despite Harry's youth, he was wise and had his godfather's best interests at heart. Although the Order was desperate, Sirius realized that he'd not be much help to them if he infected the others with his illness during the meeting.

That was all they needed: a viral outbreak.

Sirius cast a sideways glance at his godson. suddenly worried that he might get Harry sick before the school year started. Of course, it was late July, yet he couldn't help but be troubled over the matter. It was Sirius' way, especially when Harry was concerned in a matter. Or any matter. He was famously overprotective of his godson.

"Maybe I should," Sirius agreed after a few minutes.

"I can write Remus for you." Harry began to stand. Sirius stopped him.

"I'll do it."

Harry watched him leave. His right hand fingering his temple while the other clamped and loosened over his napkin. The one he had sneezed in. Did he know he was still carrying it? Sighing, Harry moved to clean up the "brunch" mess. Sirius hadn't been awake for his official breakfast, so Harry had settled for some apple butter and toast. Nothing fancy, and Harry hadn't been much of a breakfast person lately.

A few moments later Sirius erupted from the study in a violent storm of sneezes and coughs. Wincing, Harry met him in the hall and guided him to the couch.

"You're definitely not going to that meeting, I should think," Harry said in what was a disturbingly similar note to his mother. Sirius grinned, despite this revelation.

"I've already written Remus."

Harry raised his eyebrow, disbelieving. His hands were on his hips with an accusing glare aimed at his godfather. "Did you actually _send_ the letter?"

Sirius laughed. "I'm getting there, _mother_."

Going red in embarrassment, Harry tossed a blanket toward the couch his godfather was occupying and walked into the study. Sure enough, there was a letter on his desk. Leaning forward, Harry moved to roll it up and give it to Hedwig (who was asleep on her perch a few feet away), but his attention was mysteriously diverted toward reading the letter instead of sending it. He found himself studying the statement a few times, growing more and more fearful each time he read it.

Remus,

I'm afraid I will not be able to attend the meeting, as my symptoms have far from improved. I do request, however, that you inform me to anything the Order knows about Voldemort and his movements after the meeting has adjourned.

If there is reason for me to take Harry out of the country for a time, I wish to be informed immediately. I'm not going to risk anything happening to him. Your information of the reported sighting of Lestrange and some of her companions a few miles west of here disturbed me greatly, as well as the coincidental nearness of other prominent Death Eaters lately. If anything else is known, please have it sent to me immediately.

I cannot impress upon you enough the dire importance of our precarious situation, though I'm sure you're well aware of this already.

Many thanks,

Sirius B.

Harry frowned. A surge of anger welled up in him as he realized that Sirius had been keeping this information from him, but Harry took heart that, unlike Dumbledore, Sirius merely didn't want to worry him. It wasn't a matter of him being capable of comprehending what he was told. Harry had never been that dense.

"You weren't supposed to know," said a weak voice from the doorway. Harry jumped, nearly out of his skin, and turned to find Sirius staring sorrowfully at him. "I'm sorry."

Trying to hide his anger and disappointment, Harry faked a grin. "Don't worry. I understand."

Sirius stepped forward, shaking his head. "I'm sure, but that doesn't make up for it. I broke our promise. I'm sorry."

That was true, he had. Harry's first full day with Sirius they had both promised to not have any secrets, so as to prevent any distance between them; just as Sirius had stated in the hospital room the day Harry had pulled out of his coma.

"You were just doing what you thought was best," Harry said, rolling up the letter and waking Hedwig with a gentle stroke beneath her beak. She hooted a 'good afternoon' to him before he gave her the letter to take to Remus. After nipping him goodbye, Hedwig soared out of the open window and into the summer air.

"I didn't want you to think --"

"I was endangering you?"

Sirius forced a laugh. "I'm a danger to myself, regardless." Unfortunately, Harry found no humor in his statement. Sighing, Sirius came up to Harry's side and pulled him into a one armed embrace. "I'm sorry. Truly, I am."

There was a moment of silence, interrupted only by Sirius' constant sneezes. Harry sighed. Regardless of everything, he couldn't stay mad.

"Come on, before you blow your head off your shoulders with another one of those brutal sneezes."

"I am sorry, Harry," he said once more before they reached the sitting room.

A smile came across Harry's face, this time a real one. "I know."

_

* * *

_

The Present...

The paperwork was insurmountable. Over and over again, Sirius found himself trying to distract his time with reports. Each one of them more depressing than the one before. People being hurt. People going missing. People turning up dead.

Dead. _Dead._

Thoughts of Harry always snuck into his head. Where was he? Was he all right? Did he know his godfather was in desperate need to see him again? To pull him close and apologize for having failed him? To yell at him for worrying them all, though there was no reason for it. In Sirius' book, it had been his own fault. Yelling at Harry would accomplish nothing.

You're getting old, Padfoot, echoed a familiar voice in his head.

Not now, Sirius thought with his face buried in his hands. He didn't need to hear that voice now.

"Leave me alone." Sirius' muffled words fell on deaf ears. It wasn't an entity that spoke, just a memory revived somewhere in his head. "Leave me the hell alone. I don't need you to tell me what I'm doing wrong."

You're losing it.

"Don't you think I know that?"

You're going to have to keep going. You can't give up. You're not weak like that.

"Goes to show how much you know, Prongs," Sirius growled. "You weren't there. Thirteen years in Azkaban, three years on the run? I have you to thank for none of it!"

Now, now. Why do you hate me all of a sudden?

"It's not about you anymore. It's about Harry."

It's always been about Harry.

"I know. Are you saying my priorities are skewed?"

Not in the least.

"Then what do you want?"

To keep you going. I'm not going to let you just give up.

A smile came to Sirius' features. The first one in ages. "Since when have you ever let anyone you cared for give up?"

The voice laughed. _Well, I don't intend on starting now._

"Sirius?"

The moment shattered as Remus brushed past the doorway to the kitchen. He was holding two cups of coffee, and a quizzical expression. "Sirius, who are you talking to?"

His smile died instantly, and his gray eyes dropped back to the papers before him.

"Myself."

Remus set one of the china cups before him on a matching saucer. Taking a seat at his friend's side, he eyed the man for a moment before taking refuge in his caffeine filled beverage.

"Didn't sound too much like a one sided conversation to me."

Sirius ignored Remus' statement and continued to sift idly through the paperwork. There was a bout of silence between then before, at last, Remus' cleared his throat.

"The Ministry reached Clare County the other day," he said, swirling his cup as though suddenly very interested in it's contents.

"In Ireland?" asked Sirius. "And?"

"The territory was empty when they reached it." He drained his cup, and let it fall with a clink to his saucer. Sirius bit his lip and turned his gaze to the wall opposite his friend. They'd been hopeful to find something out there in that hilly marshland. The ministry had been wise to recent gatherings out there for the past few months, and had had high hopes of finding Death Eaters lurking in those dark, uncertain grounds.

Sirius had had hopes that they'd find Harry, or someone who could lead them to him.

The fact that they had been wrong was only more offsetting. Everyone had been so certain that everything they were looking for was out there. Now they were back to square one.

"Damn it!" Sirius hissed, ripping himself from his seat. He began to pace the kitchen floor, his body shaking with tense nerves and lack of both proper sleep and food. "Now what?"

"We start over," said Remus, watching Sirius pace.

"That's not good enough!" Sirius practically shouted. "For the past month, _nothing _we've done has been good enough!"

"I'm aware of that, Sirius," Remus whispered, bowing his head sorrowfully. "But wherever Harry is, if he's alive, he's being guarded well. Don't think we haven't tried everything --"

"I know we've tried everything!" Sirius was running his fingers through his hair. There was a glint in his eyes that simply made him look mad. Insane mad. "But our best isn't good enough, Remus!"

He was beginning to work himself into a breakdown. His face was losing color fast and his steps were becoming clumsy. The room blurred before him, and before Sirius knew it he was slumped against the nearest wall, head in his hands and shoulders heaving with vicious sobs.

"I don't know what to do," he sobbed. Remus was at his side in an instant, placing a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "I feel so lost."

Remus bit his lip, trying desperately to find words for his friend. How could he comfort Sirius in the wake of what was happening? Harry was gone, possibly dead, and they were both powerless against both their fears and the numerous possibilities that hung like daggers over their heads. Remus was barely capable of keeping his own hopes up, much less those of his closest friend.

"I know," Remus whispered, swallowing his nervous tears and struggling desperately against the trembling nerves in his hands. "I know you feel lost. Trust me, you're not alone."

Sirius' face was pressed into his legs, which were drawn up to his face; just like the other night in the study. He wasn't looking up. He had simply fallen into himself. His arms were wrapped around his legs as if in some last effort to hold what was left of his being together.

"I feel alone."

"I know," Remus said, trying to find something for Sirius to hold on to. He desperately needed his friend to keep a hold on his sanity. He'd be no use to Harry that way. If he came back. "I know you do. Alone. Helpless. Useless. We all feel that way. We all wake up and go to sleep wondering where Harry is and if today is the day we come one day closer to finding him. Every day we're slapped in the face by realizing we've only taken a step backwards. Their divisions are leading us around by the nose and we don't realize it until it's too late."

Looking up, Sirius peered into his friend's eyes. "Is that what happened in Clare County?"

Remus nodded.

Sirius' gray eyes drifted to the wall in front of him. He gazed past the table and chairs to the sliding glass window that overlooked the backyard of Grimmauld Place.

Harry and I used to sit out there every night and watch the stars, he thought as he lost himself in memories. _It was always so much fun._

"Why can't they just leave him alone?" Remus didn't answer the question. He knew Sirius was just as aware of the answer as anyone else, but if it helped him to ask, Remus wouldn't object. "Why can't life be normal for us?"

The tears came back again, and Remus felt himself sink lower and lower into self-hatred and despair.

"We _will_ find him, Sirius."

He looked up into Remus' eyes, and for the first time noticed a pain that wasn't his own. Sirius moved to speak, but Remus wouldn't have it.

"I don't give a damn about what I said before. We will find him, if it takes everything we've got."

_

* * *

_

Thousands of miles away, Harry awoke to find himself chained to a wall. The room was dark and cold, and he was quite certain that he could hear rats in the shadows around him. The drugs that he'd been put under for the past few day were wearing off. He now had no idea of where he was, or why.

Sirius wasn't with him, and that he knew. But where was he? Had they captured him too?

Harry looked up and around until he became very aware of a pair of eyes beyond the bars of his cell. A pang in his scar told him who it was immediately.

"Harry Potter, at long last..."

Swallowing hard, Harry prepared himself for a very long night.


	3. Endless Nights

Cast your eyes on the ocean;

cast your soul to the sea.

When the dark night seems endless,

please remember me.

--Loreena McKennitt: "Dante's Prayer"

The Past...

Sirius was in the kitchen when he first heard it: an eruption of sneezes that, for the first time in a long while, were not his own. A guilty smirk crossed his face. It seemed that the sinus infection had been the fault of a cold, not allergies. Now it was Harry's turn to share in the ailment, and he was suffering hard.

Hedwig peered up toward the ceiling at the sound of her master's dilemma. Sirius chuckled, the grin not leaving his face.

"It seems our dear Harry is getting sick," he said to the owl. Hedwig hooted in reply.

A few moments later the young man came stumbling down the stairs that lead directly to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. His eyes were watering from the violent blasts of sneezes, and he sniffled constantly between "good mornings" and debates on what to have for breakfast.

"Seems you're the one who is going to be suffering a role reversal," Sirius laughed as they eventually enjoyed some cream of wheat with toasted rye bread.

Harry grumbled his response. "Yeah, yeah," he said, though the laughter did not die from his eyes. Sirius grinned in return, spooning at his meal with a sense of thoughtfulness. A million things were running through his mind, all the while wondering if there was something in this accursed house that would help ease the uncomfortable experience of nasal congestion and other such sicknesses.

"Meh," Harry groaned, leaning back and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "How the hell did _you _deal with this?"

Chuckling, Sirius shook his head. "I'm not sure. Let me see if we've got something." He took his bowl to the sink and rinsed it, then proceeded to search the cupboards for some sort of ingredients to help against Harry's plight. "How bad is it?" He asked, shuffling through some dried lime skins and orange peels. "Severe, or endurable?"

Harry made to answer, but another fit of sneezes interrupted him. He groaned once more, leaving Sirius to answer the question for him. "Severe it is, then."

Harry laughed. "Why not?"

Sirius shook his head and began to mix together a few ingredients. The lime skins, along with some bay leaves and some mint powder to take away the bland taste. Potions and their ingredients had never been Sirius' strong suit, but he was confident, that as long as there was no risk of poisoning, he could make something to help an illness.

Harry was no exception.

"Why don't you go lay down? I'll bring this to you when it's finished."

Sighing, Harry pulled himself heavily from his chair and nodded in agreement. The wizard half expected Harry had collapsed into a chair in the sitting room when a muffled _thud_ echoed into the kitchen. Frowning, Sirius half wondered if the virus had grown stronger between it's transfer from him to Harry. Perhaps something as simple as his bubbling concoction, now sitting on the stove (he hadn't really felt like using the fireplace) wouldn't be enough? He moved to add a few more lime skins, then stopped again.

Being younger than Sirius, Harry's immune system might not be strong enough, and that was why it seemed so much worse for him then it had been for Sirius. Adding more ingredients then made over-drugging the boy a frightening possibility. He had seen first hand what happened to a person who took too strong of a potion. The side affects could be deadly!

The man froze, staring at the bubbling concoction with dread. Suddenly his confidence drained away, the liquid quickly evaporating before his very eyes. Sirius turned the stove off to eye it distrustfully. Should he risk it? Or would it be better to just wait it out?

Another parade of sneezes echoing in from the sitting room made sweat break on his temple. Holy hell, he'd never doubted himself so much before! Why did he now?

"What on earth is wrong?" came a cracked voice from the threshold. Sirius jumped, whirling to see Harry staring at him with his brow raised in question. "You look like a mouse cornered by a cat."

The man forced a laugh, his gaze dancing back to the pot with concern. "Do I? I'm sorry...I was just wondering..."

"Wondering what?" Harry crossed his arms before his chest, leaning against the doorway with one foot propped up by its toes against the floor. When Sirius didn't answer, his countenance dawned an apprehensive expression. "What's wrong?"

Sirius breathed a sharp sigh. "I...I was just wondering..."

"Yes, we already got that far."

"I was just wondering if, ...if this potion..."

Harry shook his head, chuckling. "I have confidence that you won't poison me, Sirius."

"_You_ do," Sirius stated with another forced laugh. Harry only shook his head again, stepping forward to examine the pot's contents. He _harrumphed_ and peered over at his godfather with the air of a criticizing school professor. Harry put on this incredibly Severus-like facade for a few more seconds before finally bursting into a fit of laughter.

Sirius, who was utterly confused, simply looked dumbly to his godson who seemed to have a greater knowledge of what was going on than he did.

"You're funny," Harry said at long last, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I...I am?" Sirius asked, still wearing is dumbfound stare.

Nodding, Harry rested a hand on his godfather's shoulder. "You worry too much, for one. And two, lime peels, to my knowledge, are used to make a sauce for Witch's Wally. Congratulations, Sirius! You've learned how to bake a delicious magical delicacy."

With that, Harry collapsed into a fit of giggles right there on the floor. Sirius, amazed, simply stared down at the pot's contents for a few more moments before finally following his godson's performance of roaring laughter. His face red went in embarrassment, though his eyes were watering from the incessant giggling. Within moments his stomach ached from the heaving guffaws that he and Harry had been sharing.

"That was ridiculous," Sirius sighed, wiping tears from his eyes. Harry sat across from him, his body propped up against the wall. He was still shaking his head.

"It was hysterical," he corrected.

"That too."

There was a moment of pause. All they did was revel in the silence and reflect upon the humor of the past few minutes. Sirius could honestly admit that he hadn't laughed that hard in a long time. Since he'd been with James, as a matter of fact.

His gaze flickered up to the image of his godson, still red-faced and glistening-eyed from the fit of laughter. Harry's own eyes trailed up to Sirius' face , and for a moment they simply stared at each other. The moment didn't last long enough, it seemed. Harry, nervous, switched his gaze back to the floor; a sign that they still hadn't completely adjusted to life together. Sirius sighed and stood, brushing off his robes. Harry emulated the action, adding a few more sneezes before casting his godfather a reassuring grin.

"Think I'll just wait this out." He winked and headed upstairs. Sirius grinned, his gaze following Harry up the stairs until he was out of sight. When he heard the water of the shower running, he started up piling through his ingredients and a spell book, trying to find a recipe for sinus infection maladies.

_

* * *

_

The Present...

Sirius flopped violently from side to side in his bed. His groans of anguish from these nightmares he could not escape reverberated off the ceiling, rattling the walls and disturbing the paintings that were now very wide awake due to the raucous this unrested man caused.

In his dreams he saw always the same thing: Harry, his godson, lying face down in his own blood. His body...beaten, bruised, and broken. His mouth...open in a plea of mercy that no one came to answer. His eyes...sightless. His His face...scared. His body...unmoving. Always was this the image that haunted Sirius' dreams. An undying image: Of a dying little boy.

Had Remus stayed at Grimmauld Place that night, he'd have rushed to pull Sirius away from these nightmares, waking him with tea and reassuring words before returning to his own chamber, and undoubtedly, his own nightmares too. But this night Sirius was alone, and the man was aware of it now as his ethereal feet swept through darkening corridors in hopes to answer that scream of terror before it was too late. Though his heart knew upon waking that Harry would not be there, Sirius earned some peace of mind from seeing the child in his dreams.

A child? In truth, Harry was anything but. Yet to Sirius, who trusted no one else with the boy's safety, Harry was a child. The son he did not have, and might never be given the chance to have. This was only one reason why the child, the boy, was so important to him. The fact that he was James' son only brought them closer. There was a bond between them that was present regardless of such a connection. Harry was his to watch over. His to care for and protect. His to love and be proud of.

Somewhere...Sirius had failed.

He awoke in a cold sweat, the eternal image of Harry's shattered corpse forever plastered to his lightless eyes. The dreams were becoming more and more real. Now he had felt the blood in Harry's hair. For one dreadful moment, he had the inkling that the thick substance still clung to his fingers and clotted beneath his nails. A glance at his own hands, clenched to the point of whiteness about his sheets, proved otherwise.

But the feeling remained.

Were the fates trying to tell him something?

Merlin, what was happening to him? Sanity slipped like sand through his fingers. Everyday Sirius felt himself teetering on the edge of reality, a little closer to the ledge than the day before. Only a little, but eventually those miniscule measurements added up...

...to a fast fall over the pinnacle of his mentality.

Darkness swirled like a fog before his eyes. Fragments of color danced in a frenzy before his eyes, but the darkness neither shied away or lessened. It simply was. All substantial light was cast by either the moon or the stars, both of which lingered beyond his window. Their dance went unnoticed, slow as it was. Yet as his eyes bought the coldness of the moon, so did his eyes grasp the dreamlike quality of the celestial bodies of stars.

Here was his comfort. The last one allowed to him.

Stars that glittered high above his head. Sirius, the dog star, and his namesake, glittered brighter than ever. This fact he marveled at, for it did not seem fair.

He recalled his astronomy lessons, so many years ago: Sirius was a binary star, meaning that it was actually one star circled by (or stationed next to) another. The two mutually created the glorious brilliance that went under the same name. Sirius Alpha, and Sirius Beta. Or Sirius and Harry, he'd joked one night as he and his godson gazed up at the being in awe.

The statement had humored them both, but now as Sirius gazed up at his namesake he wondered if that were true all along. Sirius himself had never been an individual shining star. In his school days, he and James had glimmered in their own glory and basked in each other's, making them an excellent duo and the most popular kids in school. Even beyond their school days nothing had changed...

...until he had lost James.

Thirteen years beyond that he'd found Harry, and now that same relationship had resumed. Sirius and Harry were a dynamic duo. In some cases, it almost felt like James was back. But there were differences, and Sirius always had to remind himself of such things before looking up and saying: "Hey Prongs, did you and Lil get a good snog last night?"

Yes, things would never be the same. But having Harry had made things better. For the time being. Now, even that was gone, and the possibility of never getting it back was as frightening as losing Harry all together.

Sirius sighed, leaning back into his pillow and staring at the ceiling. His eyes did not close again in sleep.

_

* * *

_

Hey everyone! Sorry about the long wait, but life has been busier than normal. I regret to say that I will be out of town until Friday and will not be updating anything, that's right, **anything**, for a while. So please, read and review, and hopefully I'll be hearing from you all again soon.

Take care!


	4. Requiem

Author's Note: _Holy sh...I updated!?!?! Bet you're all happy. Anyway, I guess I should apologize, but I'm too tired to. Remind me apologize in the next chapter. I've been busier than hell this past month, and this is the first opportunity I've gotten to write in a long time._

_

* * *

_

The Present

"You've got to be kidding!" roared Sirius as he ripped his hands through the mop of shaggy black knots he passed for hair. The face in the fire jumped at his sudden change of tone. Alastor Moody clicked his tongue a few times, trying to find something more reassuring to say. "This has been going on for weeks now!"

"They're leading us around by the nose, I know, Black," growled the weary Auror. There was a mad glimmer in his eyes that informed Sirius just how angry Moody was getting, but that did little to ease Sirius' pain. "For now these leads are all we have. Anything they do to slip up could lead us closer..." he trailed off, not wanting to say too much.

Sirius sighed in defeat, collapsing back into an armchair. The stress over the past few days showed like years on the once handsome man's face. Gray streaks were becoming more and more noticeable in the black mesh atop Sirius' head. A haunted flicker was all that lurked in the once lively, jovial eyes. Strong hands now shook with nervous tension, and beyond all this there was still the fact that Sirius neither ate nor slept much these days. He was dying, not one person could deny that. His body was withering, his soul had dried, and his heart...well, his heart had been stolen from him long ago.

"Thank you Moody," Sirius growled, and stood to leave the sitting room. Alastor watched him go before pulling his head from the fireplace.

"A broken man, that one is," he growled to the faces around the table at his own home.

Not much above an impressive flat these days, Alastor Moody was not one for fashions or impeccable tastes. He lived a purely Spartan lifestyle. The kitchen was barely the size of a two car garage; inside sat a wooden dining table with a total of four chairs, each fashioned in similar designs. Three more chairs had been added to accommodate the extra guests. Moody stood before them all as their introductory orator.

"Black, I assume you mean?" asked Kingsley, sitting in the furthest corner and occupying a white, whicker chair.

"Who else?" asked Nymphandora Tonks. "Can you blame him?"

All seven heads shook in agreement.

"Well, he knows now," said one Remus Lupin, closest friend to the newest conversational topic at hand. "That is something."

"Hardly the hope he needs," argued Minerva McGonagall, her brow creasing in a deep frown.

"Or the reassurance," added Dedalus Diggle, uncharacteristically somber this evening. "Poor kid."

Remus snorted. "Sirius is a few years your elder. To call him a _kid_ would be highly inaccurate."

"I was thinking about Harry," Diggle retorted defensively. There was a sudden pause in which not even a breath could be heard, as if the name itself had momentarily poisoned the air around them.

"We're all thinking about Harry," Tonks reminded them. "He's been the reason we've sent ourselves into these maddening frenzies for the past few weeks. I don't think the Order has ever participated in a more massive search and rescue!"

"And never have we gone so long empty handed," sighed Alastor Moody, unintentionally bringing the atmosphere down to an all time low that evening. A sudden and impressive resolved hardened his features then, and he looked upon the Order with a glower that made them shrink back slightly in their seats. "This is not acceptable."

"What would you have us do, Moody?" Asked Tonks, her hands arcing over her head in wide circles to emphasize her helplessness, and that of those around her. "We've been on this search for weeks, almost a full month, and we're no closer to finding Harry than the day he disappeared!"

"I know that," Moody growled. "Are you saying you're ready to give up?"

There was a pause in which no one answered. The silence was just as unnerving as having someone simply stand and say 'yes'. Moody growled again, but this time it was more guttural. More forceful. Almost primitive.

"Is that what you're saying?" Moody asked again. Still, no one answered.

Sweat beaded from Dedalus Diggle's brow. Remus sighed sadly and looked out the window toward the moon. Kingsley shifted uncomfortably in his chair. McGonagall abruptly became strangely interested in her fingernails, while Tonks simply lowered her gaze shamefully to the ground.

Too angry to even speak, Moody turned from the room. Yet, even as he reflected upon his anger, so did he reflect upon their logic. The search was becoming tiresome. With no proof that Harry was even alive, the Order could do little else but simply hope that he miraculously returned at some point soon. They had other things in which they needed to focus their energy on. Time could not be wasted in the quest to save one little boy, regardless of who he was...and what he meant to all of those who knew and cared for him.

With a sigh, Moody reentered his kitchen.

"On to other things," he announced with a guilty cough to clear his throat.

Tonks frowned. "Alastor?"

The aged Auror lifted his head heavily to gaze at the young woman who addressed him now. His eyes had taken on the dull glimmer, the essence, of what thrived in the very depths of all their hearts: defeat. "Yes, Nymphandora?"

She flinched away the utterance of her first name and stared on, incredulous. "About Harry, then?"

Alastor shook his head. "No, Tonks. Harry is beyond our grasp. We cannot hold on to hope any longer. We must march on, and hope for the best."

* * *

The news from Remus that same night, that the Order had abandoned Harry's case, left Sirius Black in a state of numbness beyond depression. Beyond hopelessness, beyond despair, beyond the desire to die; he drifted somewhere away from all such things, and had found a place much darker to reside in.

What was left in Sirius could not pass for a living being. Instead, it struck Remus as being more like an animated corpse then anything.

"It's late," Remus said after a long time of reminiscing and pondering. Raids that would never happen and plans that would never be put into use, yet it gave Remus a measure of comfort to think such things. The foolish man in him still held out for Harry to return, but Sirius had no such spirit alive in him.

He eyes Sirius now, lying frighteningly still in his armchair, breathing in and out as though it were the only movement allowed to him anymore. Surely there were a million things spinning behind those sightless eyes, all of them lost to Remus. He hadn't even registered the words spoken to him. Remus sighed,

"It's late, I said."

Sirius blinked, the first time in a while. "Is it?" he asked, not moving his head, nor shifting his gaze. "I didn't notice." He stopped, pausing to consider his words. "It's all the same, after a while...don't you think?"

Remus grinned, happy for the conversation. "What do you mean, old friend?"

"Night and day. After a while...you can't tell the difference anymore. It just all blends. The only night that really comes to you is the darkness of your mind when your eyes shut because they cannot stay open any longer. To me, that is night."

Nodding, Remus considered this. "What, then, is day?"

Sirius sat in quiet contemplation, still unmoving from his seat.

"Harry was day," he said after a while. "His smile was the sun. His laugh a running brook, newly thawed from winter's chill. His eyes and hair the symbol of what grass should be...wildly, deeply green, yet free and unkempt."

Remus could not help but chuckle. The association was uncanny, though slightly comical.

"You speak of him as though he were indeed such a grand essence."

Sirius nodded unconsciously. "He was." There was a pause, and a frown creased the already deep lines of the old aging man's face. "He is." There was a note of determination in Sirius' voice that no negative statement could deter. "He will come back," Sirius continued, his brow knitting in grim resolve. "Harry can't die."

There was a cold chill now seeping into Remus' blood. A long time ago, they had held that same belief about someone else dear very dear to them.

"I know what you're thinking," Sirius continued unexpectedly. "And you're probably right. I'm being foolish, once again I am allowing childish, impossible hopes to guide my sense and reasoning. I should know better, of course."

"You have your reasons, Sirius," Remus replied in a calm whisper. "I am glad that some still cling to hope."

"What else do I have?"

Comprehending this logic, Remus stood and made for his cloak. "I'll write a letter to the Minister first thing in the morning. Just because the Order has given up doesn't mean our Ministry has. Our or Headmaster."

"Our our Gamekeeper," Sirius added with a chuckle. It was hollow, yet at the same time Remus found some convincing reassurance that a shadow of his old friend had suddenly flittered into the room for a moment.

He peered over toward the fire, suddenly lost in memory. "How is Hagrid these days? I don't see him anymore."

"A shade better than I."

Remus flinched. "That grand, eh?"

Sirius nodded silently, and slipped back into the quiet, dead trance that haunted him so much these past few weeks.

"Do take care, Sirius," called Remus before opening the door. A short laugh echoed back toward him, as though mocking the meaningless joke. Remus shook his head, in spite of it all.

Sirius listened to his friend leave. The door clicked with a finality that echoed dully in his heart, shattering the warmth and security that he had managed to draw in from the atmosphere around him.

The days were growing long, and dark. Life seeped from his veins, as well as his willingness to survive. The Order had given up. All of the world had given up, it seemed. Sirius alone clung to the thin strands of hope that were allowed to him, and groped helplessly for some that had been ripped away.

Absently, Sirius pulled out his walled from a pocket in his robes and opened it up to find a picture of himself and his godson. They were both staring at him with incredibly cheesy grins...until suddenly Harry's hand slipped up to put a pair of bunny ears behind Sirius' head.

For the first time in a while, a true laugh echoed forth from Sirius. It didn't last long, but for a moment it breathed life into his dry spirit.

"Harry, I'm sorry..." he sighed, setting the picture aside on a nearby table. "I couldn't save your father. I couldn't save your mother. I couldn't even save myself! How the hell was I supposed to think I could save you?"

With that, Sirius rested his head against the back of his seat and let his eyes close. Perhaps there would be some peace in dreams...

* * *

__

The Past...

A songbird harped its merry tune from a tree branch, a little more than a foot away from the kitchen window over the sink. Sunlight glistened through the opening, allowing the life-giving yellow bars of warmth and radiance to caress the room. Sirius leaned against a wall, admiring the sheer beauty of the light. In Azkaban he hadn't seen much of the sun, and when he had been on the run he'd never had time to admire it, or stand in it and bask in its warmth, none of that.

Now, he took the time to enjoy little things like that. Sunlight, moonlight, starlight, hot butterbeer with good friends and warm company. These were the days he had longed for, but had lost all hope of obtaining. Here he was now, his hands behind his back and a smile on his newly tanned features, watching the trickling light of day cast itself over his home.

"What are you doing?" Asked a timid voice from the not-too-far off corridor. Sirius turned his gaze toward the source and found his godson eyeing him peculiarly.

"Watching the sunlight," he replied honestly.

Harry grinned, shook his head, and walked away, leaving his godfather to his own thoughts. Thoughts, he knew, he didn't have the right to interrupt.

Watching him go, Sirius could not help but feel slightly embarrassed. Of course, Harry hardly understood the importance this held for Sirius. Sunlight represented hope to him. It was one of those beacons he had given up on, only to have it returned to him.

Kind of like Harry.

The boy represented hope to him. Harry represented everything Sirius ever believed he needed out of life. Love, companionship, hope, youth, innocence, strength, courage...of course, Sirius could always go on.

But here, now, Sirius desired to sit and watch the sunlight.

"Are you going to be in here all day?" The voice sounded again, this time closer, and laughing.

Sirius, surprised, jumped and turned to find his godson's face smiling into his own. Laughing more out of his own embarrassment than anything, Sirius began to scratch the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. "Er, why do you ask?"

"We had a meeting today, remember?" Harry lifted up both of their cloaks as a sudden reminder.

"At one thirty."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "It's one twenty eight."

Sirius' shoulders slumped forward. He took his cloak and draped it over his shoulders, then reached for his hat on the shelf by the doorway.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked. Sirius, caught off guard by the sudden empathetic tone of his godson's voice, looked up. Harry's green eyes glittered in the dance of the light across his face, and a thin smile brightened his features even more.

For a moment, Sirius simply marveled at the image it made. "Nothing," he replied, and Harry nodded, happy with the answer. Upon turning, however, the boy missed his godfather's affectionate smile directed at him.

Perhaps Sirius didn't need the sun so much, just as long as he had Harry....

* * *

__

The Present...

Sirius awoke the next morning to find dawn on the horizon. His gaze flew out toward the newly birthed sunlight...

...but he found no hope in this day's new-coming light.


	5. Tears of Joy

Hey there! I'm really pleased with all the comments I'm getting on this story. Thanks everyone! You all rock! (hugs everyone) I hope this next chapter is satisfactory.

* * *

The Present

It was the first time Sirius had left Grimmauld Place in weeks.

A haphazardly scribbled letter had caused the man to flee his abode in such a way that it challenged the mere possibility of him being human.

Like a shadow he moved through the halls of the Ministry of Magic, taking the chattering lift down to the lower floors where most never set their eyes. Sirius, however, was a special case. Especially concerning the present circumstances of his letter.

A raid had been performed late last night, so he had been told. Nothing special, and no one had expected to find anything but a few unimportant cronies of Voldemort's. Of course, that was what they had found, but along with this they had discovered a large sect of prisoners. People who had been missing for days, weeks, months, even years were found within the catacombs of a small sea side castle in Scotland. No one had known about it until a few days before. They had prepared a small, simple incursion planned for the place.

What they found surprised them all.

As Sirius rounded a corner, he collided fully with a body he was not aware of until the last minute. He might have skidded away with little more than an apology uttered over his shoulder, but a thin hand clasped over his wrist and pulled him back.

"Sirius!" the man gasped, holding his stomach where he had received an not-so-friendly elbow to the diaphragm. "Sirius, you can't go in. Not yet."

"Is he there?" Sirius asked, a mad glare in his eyes. "Is he in there? Did they find him?"

"Sirius-"

"IS HE IN THERE?!?!"

Remus sighed, a glistening in his eyes deceiving Sirius. He began to believe the worst.

"Oh God," the man began to wail, slumping against the nearest wall and running his hands through the indistinguishable rat's nest that was his hair. "He's dead. God, no....no! He's dead!" Sirius arched his back so that his nose was just an inch away from his knees. His knotted fingers worked frantically at his temples as though he were struggling just to keep his head together. Remus knew that if he had to say something, it would be now.

"No, Sirius, he isn't dead," Remus interjected. This brought the man out of his fit. Sirius turned his gaze to look sideways up at his old friend, confusion evident in his eyes. "He's in the Ward right now-"

"He's been injured?" Sirius snarled suddenly. Remus sighed. There would be no getting through to this man.

"Slightly, but he's one of the better patients we've got as far as conditions go. The doctors have already healed him. He might be ready to come back home as early as tomorrow."

If Sirius heard any of this, he did not show it.

"When can I see him?"

Remus moved to answer, but was suddenly cut short. His eyes moved over Sirius' shoulder to an unknown entity behind him. Following his friend's gaze, Sirius turned to see one of the Ministry Specialists stalking toward them.

Sirius felt his body tense and then begin to convulse slightly beneath his robes. His body was too frail though for even Remus' eyes to pick up on it, and the man was very grateful for that fact.

"Mr. Black?" The doctor asked with a friendly air of formality. He extended his hand which Sirius took lightly. "I'm Doctor Shadarak Frantzich . I've been sitting with your godson for some time now."

"Can I see him?" Sirius asked immediately.

Frantzich smiled sadly. "You may see him in a moment, but first I'd like to talk to you about what Harry's been through."

Sirius nodded, accepting the doctor's arm around his shoulders as he was lead away to a nearby lounge. Remus' gaze alone followed them.

* * *

"He's a very brave young man, Mr. Black," stated Frantzich, pouring them both some coffee. Sirius accepted the cup silently, but did not drink it. He hung on Shadarak's every word, eager for something on his godson's state of health. "You should be proud."

"I am," Sirius said very matter-of-factly. "I always have been proud of him."

"But you want to see him?" said the doctor, knowing it was no great secret. Sirius nodded, in the same frame of mind. "In a moment. I must say that he endured a lot these past few weeks. The Death Eaters are not kind to their prisoners, especially their most hated ones."

Sirius swallowed. "How bad was he when you brought him in?"

"Half dead," said the doctor honestly. Sirius flinched. Frantzich did not hide his sympathetic grin. "But we were able to take care of him quite easily. Over the past few hours he's shown marvelous recovery, and ever since he fully regained himself...well, you're the only person he's been asking about."

Sirius, though touched at this statement, did not show it.

"He's been worried about you, and by the state in which you now appear, I can see why. No offense." Frantzich added quickly, fearful that he may have crossed the line in this conversation. Sirius, however, showed no sign of offense.

"None taken," he assured the doctor, finally gazing down to consider his warm beverage. "I'm a wreck. There's no sense in denying it. I have been since he disappeared."

Frantzich nodded. "You're not the only one. I had a slew of visitors demanding to see him once news reached Dumbledore and the Ministry that Harry had been recovered."

A grin flickered over Sirius' dry features. "I'm not surprised. Lots of people care about Harry. Probably more than he'll ever know."

"Well, _I'll _never forget them. There was one clan of redheads I was certain would rip me apart if they couldn't get through young Mr. Potter's door."

"The Weasleys," Sirius stated with a laugh. "Yes, that family has always been protective of Harry. I'm thankful for that. They looked out for him when I could not."

Frantzich smiled. "I know many who would envy such love."

"He paid a price for his love," Sirius stated earnestly. Shadarak nodded, knowing well the sacrifice Sirius spoke of. It was a sacrifice many had made; the passing of Lily and James Potter.

An uncomfortable silence ensued, until at long last a nurse came to the lounge and spoke the words Sirius' heart had been bursting to hear.

"Mr. Black, you may come see your godson now."

Sirius followed the nurse out the door, setting his untouched coffee down on a nearby table and shuffling into step behind her. She lead them down a few corridors and up a flight of stairs before they finally came to a room marked **846**. The nurse opened it and Sirius stepped through...

* * *

__

The Far and Distant Past

It was a late September in 1981 when the largest storm known to Wizarding World shattered the quite countryside of English suburbia.

Sirius, who was staying the night babysitting the only child of his best friend, felt the steady beat of drumming rain and ransacking winds within the walls of his own guest bedroom. Fear did not make his heart pound, but instead the straining curiosity of whether or not it was prudent to leave a toddler alone in his room during such a brutal gale.

Tossing and turning amidst his own doubts, and his own sheets, Sirius pondered over and over again. Was Harry all right? Was he sleeping and Sirius overreacting (after all, he was famous for such things)? Was Harry lying in fear, too frightened to cry out?

He might have leapt up to find out were it not for the fact that the sound of a toddler's thudding bare feet on the floor told him that his godson was already making his way toward, what he believed to be, safety.

Sirius met the young boy in the hallway, partially afraid that he might tumble down the stairs of the two story house, or run to his parent's room to find it empty.

"Harry?" Sirius called into the corridor. A bolt of lightening too close for Sirius' own comfort illuminated the area around them. Sure enough, he found a cowering toddler huddled in the furthest corner of the hall. His head was hidden beneath his blanket. All that could be made out clearly were the child's ten toes, sticking out beneath the rim of the coverlet. They trembled just as surely as the rest of his body did, slithering closer and closer to the rest of his body for comfort.

Sirius, both amused and saddened at this display, peeked under the blanket. A pair of tear rimmed, green eyes looked up into his own gray eyes.

"Hey there, kiddo!" he announced with a smile. Another resounding boom of lightening caused them both to jump. "You're not scared, are you?"

Harry shook his head, though his tears betrayed him. Sirius smiled sadly and scooped the child up in his arms.

"Want to sleep with me tonight?"

Harry nodded. He angled himself so that he might sit up, and wrapped his arms tightly about his godfather's neck.

"Thank you, pafoof," the toddler whispered. Sirius rested a hand on the child's back, rubbing his small frame in reassurance.

"Don't you worry, Harry. Padfoot will always be there for you," he promised.

Harry spent the night tucked close to his godfather, his face hidden beneath the sheets of the bed. Sirius spent his night with his arms tucked tightly about the child that was like a son to him.

When the sound of gentle snoring reached Sirius' ears, he brushed the sheets away and admired the sleeping image beside him. He brushed a lock of hair from the child's face, smiling while the child enjoyed total peace. A feeling that was very foreign to Sirius.

"I will always be there, Harry."

* * *

__

The Present

That promise echoed over and over in his head millions of times a second as the image of his godson presented itself to him.

What was once a tall, strong young man was now a weakened and frail thing. Life still shone in those green eyes, but not nearly as much as it once had so long ago.

He might have thought that this was not Harry at all were it not for the smile that had been sitting on his face upon the expected entrance of his godfather...

...a smile that soon dissipated at the sight of the man.

"Good God, you look awful!" Harry breathed, his face blanching at the awful image. "Did you just stop eating all together? Why aren't you -"

Harry wasn't allowed to finish his sentence. His head was too quickly buried in Sirius' shoulder, and his lungs squeezed into an embrace that rivaled the crushing grip of a giant's!

"I thought I would never see you again," said Sirius, no longer bothering to hide his tears. His anger, his emotions...he let it all fly away on the wind, knowing it would return when he needed it. "For weeks...nothing! No sign, no evidence that you were still alive..."

"I'm sorry," Harry said after being released from the embrace. Sirius settled on the side of the bed, his hands grasping Harry's with all his strength (which wasn't much). "It's not like I could send you an owl."

"I know," Sirius sighed, his head dropping and his shoulder's sagging. "I know."

Harry grinned, cocking his head. The motion hurt, but he didn't let on that it did.

"You look horrible."

"I've heard that a lot lately," said Sirius.

"Can't imagine why," Harry said sarcastically, a grin softening the blow of the statement. Sirius smiled. How he had missed these humorous exchanges.

Sirius grinned. "Because you're the essence of godly beauty right now, right?"

Harry batted his eyes in a mock-flirtatious manner that made Sirius laugh harder than he had in a very, very long time. "Oh, but you know it," the boy said, flicking his left hand in a very feminine style. The laughter did not die from Sirius' throat, just as the tears did not dry from his eyes.

Tears of joy.

* * *

Yes, sudden ending I know. Once more, you all are probably wondering what the hell happened. We'll get there.

I'm sorry. (bows humbly) This is a gift to all of you. It's my birthday today and I felt like giving in stead of getting.

LOL, of course, reviews would be highly appreciated forthe birthday-girl! (Wide grin) Make 'em nice and long too. Please?


	6. Returned

__

The Present

"Well?" Remus Lupin asked when Sirius finally left Harry's room a few hours later. "How is he?"

A thin smile danced across Sirius' livening features, and although his eyes did not meet his friend's, Remus could see the happiness burning deep within them.

"He's better than I could have ever hoped for."

Remus sighed. "Is he resting now?"

Sirius nodded, sinking into an armchair nearest the door to Harry's room. Remus followed suit. "And how are you?"

Looking up, Sirius frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, how are _you_ doing with all of this?"

A thoughtful expression dawned on the old man's face, but only for a moment. "I'm doing well."

"You look tired."

Sirius laughed. "I'm suddenly feeling all the tortures I put myself through...for the first time."

A grin flashed over Remus' face. "I don't doubt it. Would you like me to get you something to eat?"

"Please."

Within a few moments, Remus was gone from view, and Sirius was left to consider this past month of hell. And also left to rejoice alone. All of that waiting was over. All of that torture, all of that heartache. It had ended now. Life could return to normal.

A crash sounded a few meters down the hall adjacent to where Sirius sat. He jumped in his chair, taken off guard, and slight spooked.

All at once, a mass of red headed children came pouring around the corner, a high pitched voice yelling after them.

"Fred! George! Do you realize what you've just done?"

"Honestly, mum! It was Ron!"

"Was not!" piped the youngest of the Weasley males, fighting to be freed from the crushing weight of his twin brothers. They had all ended up sprawled out on the floor after having an unfortunate incident with a few of the hall lamps. "Fred pushed me into it!"

"Only cause you were pushing me!"

"I was not! That was Ginny!"

"Don't you _dare_ blame this on me!" squeaked the only female Weasley in the massive heap of red heads and flailing, freckled limbs.

Sirius stared on, not certain if he should help or simply laugh at the spectacle before him.

Considering his mood recently, he chose the latter.

All four heads looked up to find the scene before them both uplifting and surprising: _Sirius? Here? Laughing?_

The four exchanged flabbergasted expressions before finally pulling themselves out of the mess they were in and ran as one toward the sitting man. A maelstrom of questions erupted all at once, but Mrs. Weasley silenced them with one bellowing: "All right! That's enough!"

Sirius winced. "Keep it down, Molly. Harry's resting."

At this statement, the Weasley's paled. Sirius soon realized why.

Molly rounded on all of them in a corked rage which showed only in her eyes. Pursed lips managed to get one statement out, however. One that Sirius had not quite expected from this lovely, plump little women.

"_If you four make one more sound, I will personally have you all sent to sit in Azkaban for a **week**!"_

The Weasley children nodded as if they truly believed this empty threat.

Sirius would wonder later on if the threat had really been that empty.

Molly turned her eyes on Sirius next. She disregarded his haggard state, his unkempt hair, and his tattered robes, and simply smiled gently upon him, pulling him down into the motherly embrace that Molly Weasley was always so appreciated for.

"Sirius, you look-"

"Awful, Molly. I know."

The woman smiled sadly at him. There was no way to disprove what he had said, and Molly was smart enough not to argue. She knew she would not be in a much better state if it had been her in this position.

"How is he?" she asked, her voice suddenly cutting low. Sirius sighed.

"He's better than I could have hoped for, but they want to keep him an extra night. Just in case."

Molly looked away, tears in her eyes. "They said that when they found him...he was half dead."

"The doctors told me that too. What they meant, I don't know. I'm not sure I want to know."

"Probably not. Arthur's told me first hand what some prisoners look like when they're discovered on raids."

Sirius cocked his head, slightly intrigued, though he knew it was foolish to be so. "Really?"

Molly nodded. "Pale. Thin. Shaken. Don't know up from down or left from right. Paranoid. Sometimes crippled."

Sirius' brow knit in confusion. "You mean physically?"

"Or mentally. Even both in major cases."

Sirius suppressed a shudder while a sudden chill whipped down his spine. He rubbed his arms above the elbow and glanced over his shoulder toward the door.

How fortunate he was this night.

"How long are you staying, Molly?" Sirius asked after a few moments of silence.

"Arthur will be heading in soon." She stopped, a small smile on her face. "We were thinking we'd spend the night here with you. To be here when Harry gets out in the morning."

Sirius smiled, appreciative for such good friends. "I would like that," he admitted honestly.

There wasn't a redhead in that corridor that was not grinning broadly at that moment.

* * *

True to the doctors' words, Harry was home the next day.

And awaiting him was a host of friends and peers, all overjoyed to see him.

Half of the Order was there, even faces that Harry was not completely familiar with. Dedalus Diggle make a point to shake Harry's hand, while Nymphandora Tonks planted comical kisses on his cheek, causing him to blush considerably. The Weasley's, of course, made the biggest uproar, joined by a tearful Hermione Granger and a fretting Neville Longbottom.

Albus Dumbledore was among the throng, welcoming both Harry and Sirius back to the lives they had missed. Minerva McGonagall was there also. She shook Harry's hand, trying very hard to maintain a stoic visage while tears of joy trickled into the corners of her eyes.

Snape was conspicuously absent, but there was a wide load of other faces from Hogwarts and the Order to make up for one unwelcome presence.

Remus, of course, was there, much to the surprise of others. The next night would be the full moon, and even Sirius had suggested Remus stay in to get some rest. His excuse was logical, even though his decision was not considered wise by many who had also attended the "Welcome Back" party.

"So, are you happy to be back?" Sirius whispered into his godson's ear while they all enjoyed a social romp in the sitting room.

Harry grinned. "When have I ever been unhappy here?"

Somehow, that made Sirius feel very warm inside.

* * *

__

The Past...

Harry was reading in the study.

Perfect.

Sirius grinned slyly, his old Marauder grin, and slipped through the threshold. Harry never made a sign that he had sensed his godfather's presence, and that boosted the man's confidence considerably.

It was the perfect plan. Harry had no idea about anything that was to happen today, and now this extra option to scare the crap out of the kid was only too tempting.

The grin widened as Sirius inched closed to the arm chair. Harry was facing the opposite direction, completely absorbed in his book.

He crouched low, like a lion ready to pounce on his prey.

Harry chuckled, but Sirius thought nothing of it. Most likely it was something in the book. Right?

Sirius crouched lower, wagging his fingers in eager anticipation. He inhaled, opened his mouth, and...

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Harry had leapt up on the chair, whirled around, and shouted quite literally into Sirius' face.

The man stood stunned for a second, then blinked away the surprise.

"How did you-"

"Remus told me!" Harry grinned and winked. He leapt down from his chair and took Sirius around the arm, leading him back into the sitting room. "Do you have anything planned?"

"I...uh..."

"Good," Harry laughed. "Because I do."

"Wh-what?"

The young man chuckled. "You'll see."

Sirius most certainly did see.

Harry had invited half the Order (the half he knew Sirius could stand). Even the Weasley's showed up, oddly enough with Hermione in tow. She and Ron exchanged odd glances the entire duration of the stay, but Harry never seemed to be bothered.

The day had been eventful, and with some help from Remus afterward, there was very little mess to be cleaned up.

"Well?" Harry asked as they enjoyed a mug of butterbeer together.

Sirius grinned and threw an arm over Harry's shoulders. He chugged the last of his drink, set down his cup, then proceeded to rub his knuckles into the boy's mop of messy black hair.

"Ow-ow-ow!" Harry yelped.

Sirius laughed out loud, winking when the boy sat back up to find his hair in even more of a state than it normally was.

"Thanks," he grumbled, trying to flatten his hair.

"No, thank you," said Sirius. "I didn't expect this."

Harry grinned. "I know. That's what made it so fun."

* * *

__

The Present...

Sirius watched Harry sleep idly on the couch. A smile formed on his face at the image of innocence that lay before him.

Two days ago, he would not have imagined this. Now, he was living it.

Not having the heart to wake Harry, he pulled a comforter out from underneath the sofa (for guests) and wrapped the boy up in it. He rubbed his head affectionately before finally whispering "Goodnight, kiddo."

He started off toward his bedroom, but then thought better of it.

Sirius was still far too paranoid to willingly leave Harry downstairs on his own.

Pulling another comforter out of the hall linen closet, Sirius nestled down into the reclining chair nearest Harry and settled in for a good sleep.

The best he had had in over a month.


	7. Never to Forgive

****

Author's Note: Sorry I haven't been writing as much, everyone. Been sort of down and out lately, and the events of this past weekend just shitted me out.

Anyway, while fighting a deep depression I've decided to attempt to update this story. Hope you all like it, and don't worry, this thing is far from over. Harry's return is just a...er, fortunate, coincidental circumstance? (evil cackle)

(sigh)

Whatever. On with the story then....I guess...

* * *

The Past

"You know they're moving," said Remus while sipping a small cup of tea. His tone had not changed throughout the duration of his stay, and frankly, it was pissing Sirius off.

"I know they're coming!" the man growled while trying to flip some eggs in a skillet. This was a job Harry was much more appropriately suited for. Unfortunately, he was enjoying his weekend on a trip out with the Weasleys. This left Sirius home alone to cook for himself.

Not a pleasurable situation.

Sirius growled again as he discovered that one side of his sunny-side-up breakfast had just been burned into a black horizon. He cursed and tossed the remnants of his breakfast into the rubbish, settling on the ever-so-ingenious "Pop-Tart" instead, a meal that Harry had introduced him too their first week together.

"What am I supposed to do? I've got every protection spell known to Albus Dumbledore and the two of us set on this place. Their are guards posted all over the block, and Harry's never out of a Ministry officials' sight."

"Or yours," Remus added with a grin.

Sirius breathed a hissing stream of breath through his lips. "Of course not. What the hell else can I do?"

Remus shrugged. "I was only supposed to relay the warning."

"Thanks, Captain Dandy," Sirius snapped. He had pushed his pop-tart aside and was now lying with his head in his arms on the kitchen table.

How pathetic I must look, Sirius thought with his eyes closed. _About as helpless as I feel, I'm sure._

He heard Remus sigh through the thick fabric of his sleeves and the dense forest of black hair that sat atop his head.

"You're not helpless," Remus stated matter-of-factly, as if he had just read his friend's mind. "And, more importantly, you're not alone."

Sirius sighed again, lifting his head slightly to allow Remus to witness his grateful smile. "Thanks."

Remus nodded his head, grinning in response.

"So how have things been?" Remus asked.

"As far as what?"

"You and Harry. Have you two been getting along?"

Sirius glanced up at his friend with an expression that looked both quite mystified and surprised. "Why? Has he said something?"

"No, no, no!" Remus protested immediately, waving his hands in front of him for emphasis. "Just curious!"

Laughing, Sirius shook his head. "Oh. Well, I guess everything's been going well. We've yet to argue about something. It's usually just casual conversation and bantering whenever it's just the two of us."

Remus chuckled. "Sounds like James."

"You know," Sirius sighed wistfully, "sometimes, for a second when I'm not thinking clearly, I believe it really is him."

There was a sad smile on Remus' face that Sirius did not notice. _It must be nice, getting your best friend back_, he thought with some indignation. But he shrugged the thought away as quickly as it had come. He could never take care of Harry with his conditions, no matter how much he wanted to have a relationship with the boy.

Perhaps it was for the better. Wolves normally traveled in packs, but werewolves were intended to be alone forever.

That was just the way of it.

"You look lost in thought," Sirius commented after a while. His head was resting on his left palm, while the fingers of his right hand drummed the table lazily. His grey eyes were penetrating right through Remus' brown ones, questions lingering just beyond their imminent depths that Remus would never answer. "Something on your mind?"

"Something always is," Remus stated immediately. It wasn't forced enough for Sirius to wonder on whether or not the response was planned.

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

With that, Sirius' head slipped back into the folds of his arms on the table. Remus just stared on.

_

* * *

_

The Present (One Week After Harry's Return)

"Damn eggs!"

For the last time, Sirius tossed the contents of his breakfast into the trash. Slamming the skillet down on the stove he whirled out of the kitchen in a maddening fury.

Harry and Remus (who had stayed the night) looked up from their chairs as he stormed past them and outside into the sunroom. Remus chuckled while Harry only shook his head.

"The real reason why he didn't eat while you were gone," Remus stated casually while flipping a page of the Daily Prophet, "is because he can't cook a damn thing."

It was quite a struggle for Harry to keep his orange juice from shooting out of his nose while he laughed.

_

* * *

_

"I can so cook," Sirius objected, slightly hurt, to Harry's reenactment of this conversation later that evening.

Remus had left, so the story was safe to share.

"I know," Harry laughed.

Sirius beamed.

A bout of silence followed in which nothing could be heard but the ticking clock and the roaring fire. It was nearing the end of August now. School would be starting again in a week and a half. Sirius was wondering on what he was going to do about Harry going back to school.

He had been working on preparing himself for this moment throughout all of June and most of July...

Until Harry had gone missing.

After that, the thought had never crossed his mind. And for a month it had gone on. The searching. The suffering. The torment. The thinning hope and merciless beatings of his guilt ridden mind...all of it.

Then Harry had come back, and now Sirius was going to be saying goodbye again.

It was almost unbearable.

"You're quiet," Harry said after a while.

Sirius looked up to find his godson peering at him, concern mirrored in those deep green eyes.

"Am I?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm sorry," Sirius sighed. "I'm just..."

"Thinking."

There was a pause.

"Yeah."

Another pause.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Sirius frowned. "What's a penny?"

Harry shrugged. "It's an American term. It means I'll give you money if you tell me what you're thinking, basically. Although..." Harry stopped, frowning. "According to Hermione, a penny is the smallest amount of American currency..."

Chuckling, Sirius shook his head. "Are you wondering then if it's more of an insult than a display of friendly concern?"

A confused grin came across Harry's features. "Well, _that's _a great way to put it," he stated sarcastically. "'You're not important enough for me to give any _real_ money for, so I'll just give what I don't need and that will settle it.'"

Sirius laughed. "Yeah, sounds like an American saying all right."

A snort escaped from Harry, causing his godfather to laugh even harder.

Another bout of silence followed. This one was longer, causing each to shift in their own uneasiness numerous times.

At long last, Harry spoke.

"What are you so worried about?"

Sirius didn't answer, he simply lifted his gaze sadly to consider his godson. Harry sighed, understanding.

"I'm sorry," he responded at length.

"What?!" Sirius' gaze shot up in amazement. "What are you apologizing for?"

Harry stared flatly at his godfather, as though he had just asked a question to which the answer was only too obvious.

"What else?"

Sirius sighed and set his cup down. His gaze fell sternly to the floor, and he promised himself he would not lift his eyes till he was finished.

"That wasn't your fault. You can't blame yourself."

"You seem to find enough reason to do so-"

"Because it **_was _**my fault!" Sirius unintentionally snapped. The shocked expression on Harry's face told him he'd been unfair with his tone. He sighed and returned his gaze to the floor. "It _was_ my fault."

"Like hell it was," Harry argued.

"Watch you're-"

"No! It wasn't your fault!" Harry's fist was clenched against the arm of his chair. Sirius looked up, surprised at his godson's own tone. "Sirius, I know you think that you're supposed to protect me...but you can't be there all the time."

"That's no excuse--"

"Yes, it is."

Sirius was about to say something, but something told him to hold his tongue. Harry was working up to something here, and he wanted to hear it before he said another word.

"You can't promise yourself all the time. It just can't be done. You're human! You can't be there all the time. You can't beat the world at it's own game because you're just one person. You can say you're going to be there, and you can try your best, but the thing is you just can't do it all the time. People slip up, Sirius."

Sirius did not bother to consider these words because he already knew too well that such things were often the case.

"I know that Harry. And you know that I know. My biggest mistake was letting Peter Pettigrew become your parents' Secret Keeper. And you see what that mistake cost me?"

Harry winced. Sirius' voice was very dark now, sending chills up the boy's spine.

"I know I can't be there all at once. I know I can't protect you all the time, but damn it, Harry! That still doesn't make up for the fact that I could have lost you!"

"But-"

"And I'd never forgive myself if that happened!"

"If you're not-"

"That won't make up for it!"

Neither one of them realized that they were both standing now. Four inches were all that separated them, and that distance was rapidly closing.

"But if you can't-"

"That's not the point!" Sirius hollered, and all at once he swept Harry into his arms and fully embraced the child. Harry stood rigid for a moment, trying to figure out what had just happened and why.

For Sirius it wasn't a question as to how, or why. The fact that they were yelling at each other tore him apart, and his blame was still in the process of doing that even with Harry returned. They were both silent; Harry because his face was practically buried in his godfather's shoulder, and Sirius because he could not yet grasp the words that he needed to find.

"It doesn't have to make sense, Harry. The truth is, it doesn't. Not even to me. But...that still doesn't make up for anything." He took a pause to breathe and swallow his tears. "I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you, and that's just how it goes. All right?"

He felt Harry nod against his shoulder, and all at once his own arms tightened around Sirius' torso.

They shared that embrace for many moments.

_

* * *

_

Sorry, guess I can't have the humor without the angst. (apologetic grin)

Um, please review?


	8. A Disturbing Happening

Knowledge by suffering entereth, And life is perfected by Death.

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning

**A Disturbing Happening**

The Present...

Sleep still did not come.

Sirius tossed and turned about in his bed. The sheets were tangled in large knots around his body, and half of his comforter was strewn across the floor. He could hear the seconds ticking away on the clock in the hall, but all that did was sharpen his senses. Why did he feel so off? His instincts were screaming that something was wrong. But what? There were thousands of wards on the house. No one could take one step on a single blade of grass of their lawn without the proper access spells, and even then there were loopholes. It didn't make sense.

What was wrong?

From where Sirius lay, he could hear Harry sneeze from his own bedroom. The sound was refreshing, but it soothed Sirius' nerves only slightly. Whatever was going on inside of him, he still had Harry here.

Pressing his eyes tightly shut and ignoring the cold chill that was seeping in beneath one of the cracked windows of the bedroom, Sirius tried desperately to grasp at some fraction of sleep. His eyes were heavy with weariness, and his back screamed for rest. But his heart was pounding too fast, and there was a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was as if he were riding on an extremely fast roller coaster without a safety harness.

Gravity was soon going to take its course and throw him from this little bracket of safety he had regained in his life.

Groaning against the strain of his nerves, Sirius finally gave into the insomnia and left his bedroom. He took his wand from the side table drawer and slipped it firmly into one of the pockets of his house robes. Tip toeing by Harry's room so to not risk waking him up, he made his way to the kitchen and started the strongest pot of coffee he dare make at this hour of the night.

'Morning,' he groaned in his own head, looking up at the wall clock to see that it was well past midnight.

Sighing, Sirius continued on with his coffee pot until the brew was finished and half of it was drained. Maybe a warm drink would help put him to sleep. Of course, Sirius didn't want to count the high amount of caffeine he had just put into his system.

He'd worry about that in the morning. Later on during _this _morning.

A glance at the nearby calendar told Sirius that September first was fast approaching. Harry would be returning to Hogwarts.

The Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore had assured Sirius over and over again that his godson would be safe. Extra protection had been placed upon the castle, and upon the Gryffindor common room, to doubly ensure the boy's safety.

Yet, for all it was worth, Sirius still didn't trust it. If Harry wasn't here, with him, then he would never be satisfied. The words of Albus Dumbledore would not sooth his mind until he could see for himself that Harry was well protected.

And no measure of protection, when concerning Harry Potter, excluded Sirius Black from the mixture.

'Get over yourself, Black,' said a voice while he rested his forehead in the palm of his hands. 'You're going to have to let go.'

But what did that mean? How could Sirius just let go when it seemed as though all of the world was trying to swallow up that which he cared for most?

'He's growing up. You're not going to be able to hold his hand forever.'

Why couldn't he? So much time had been stolen from them. It wasn't fair! He wasn't ready to let go of someone that had just been given back to him!

'You were never part of the bigger picture. Harry will have to deal with these things on his own, and he can't afford to have the people he cares for get in the way. Not when it could mean losing them.'

Sirius sighed. What was one more person lost to this war, he wondered. In reality, people died everyday. What was one more person?

'Ask yourself that when it's Harry that's dead.'

Sirius stiffened, seeing the point of his alter ego's words. Apparently at some point in time during Harry's alleged absence he'd developed some form of schizophrenia. Either that or he had just gotten used to talking to himself way too much.

Sighing, Sirius tossed his cup in the sink and started back upstairs. Rubbing his temple, he peered into the open doorway of Harry's bedroom for a second, his eye caught on a peculiar sight.

Harry was curled into a tight ball amidst a mess of sheets and blankets, as though he were doubled over in pain. His frame seemed to tremble slightly, as if he were cold, and his breathing was coming in short, labored breaths.

Frowning, Sirius tiptoed into the room and came around the other side of his godson's bed. He gasped at the sight.

Harry was lying in pools of sweat. His face was white in the florescent glow of the moon outside, and his eyes were pinched tightly shut. His arms were folded over his stomach as though trying to ease away the desire to vomit, and small, short whimpers were escaping his lips as though he were in dire pain.

Sirius fell to his knees, gently shaking the boy awake.

"Harry? Harry?" he whispered gently, trying desperately to blanket the fear in his own voice. He'd never seen anyone so ill before in his life! "Harry, it's Sirius! Wake up, kiddo."

"I am awake," Harry croaked, not opening his eyes.

Sirius jumped at the sudden response, but didn't dare move away from the bedside. "What's wrong?"

"Sick." Was all Harry could manage.

"I can see that," Sirius breathed, not intending to sound sarcastic. Harry opened one eye glaringly, but didn't say anything. "Was it something you ate?"

Harry grimaced. "Maybe."

Sirius frowned. All of a sudden he wasn't so sure. Harry and he had both had the same thing for dinner. If that were the case, he would be ill as well.

"Can you move?" Sirius asked.

Harry opened one eye again. "The question....is...do I want to?"

The man couldn't help but break a small grin at his godson's attempt with sardonic humor. It didn't really suit Harry to talk that way, but this was truly no time for arguing.

"All right. I'm going to turn the light on."

Harry nodded to show that he had heard.

Sirius lifted his wand from his pocket and slowly illuminated the lamp by the bed. The image was even more disturbing under light.

Harry was whiter than the sweat stained sheets he was lying on. His face dripped with rivers of perspiration and saliva, but the pain in his abdomen was so intense that he'd barely noticed. Sirius, panicking, reached down to pull Harry out of the bed only to find his upper extremities icy to the touch. This wasn't an illness.

These were the effects of poison.

Sirius felt his body tremor beneath his robes at this realization. How had this happened? When? Why?

He couldn't wait for the answers.

"Harry," Sirius hissed in a very strained voice. He was slowly losing his grip on himself and everything around him. "Harry I'm going to call Mungos. You need to get to a doctor."

The boy nodded in understanding. For a second, Sirius had hoped to find a reflection of the child he'd never known within the boy, but there was nothing. Harry didn't ask for him to stay by his side. He didn't ask for Sirius to make it go away. He didn't ask anything. He simply nodded, understanding and never questioning his godfather's reasoning.

Although touched, Sirius was slightly disappointed.

Gently running his fingers through the messy mop of hair, he promised to return soon and sped away down the halls.

* * *

"Ergot," said the nurse while Sirius bounced on the balls of his feet to quell his nerves. This word, however, stopped him cold. 

"What?"

"Ergot."

Sirius frowned. "That's a fungi-based poison."

"I know," said the nurse, frowning. "He hasn't ingested any-"

"We both ate the same thing. There's no way he'd have gotten sick and not me. His immune system is better than mine."

The woman frowned. "Well, is it possible this could have been intentional. Is there anyone who's had a quarrel with your godson lately?"

Sirius, despite his nervousness, had to laugh. "This is Harry Potter you're talking about. What do you think?"

The nurse looked up at him blankly before finally catching on to his intentions. "I-I see. I'm sorry,"

"It's all right," he lied. "Can I see him now?"

The woman sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry, but he's still resting in intensive care right now. You can come see him when he wakes up." Sighing, Sirius ran his fingers over his temples. "I'm sorry, sir, but it's --"

"I know," Sirius sighed. "I know."

The nurse left him standing in the empty corridor, wondering what on earth could have happened over the past twenty four hours that might have landed them back here in Mungos.

He wasn't given a great deal of time to reflect, however, for at that moment a familiar face came padding down the hall toward him, white faced and weary-worn after a very long broom-ride from his loft to London.

"Sirius! What happened?"

"Remus? What the hell are you-"

"I just received an Owl from Dumbledore that Harry was hospitalized due to poisoning."

"You just...an owl.....you...wait, how does Dumbledore know?"

Remus allowed himself a small grin. "You know Dumbledore. Never misses a thing, that man."

There was a bout of silence until finally Sirius fell into Remus' embracing arms, teary eyed and exhausted. "I don't know what happened!" he started sobbing all of a sudden. "He was fine when he went to bed...then all of a sudden...."

Remus waited quietly, allowing his friend this moment of uncharacteristic neediness.

"The world is falling apart."

"You got to him in time, Sirius," Remus said, doing his very best to console his friend. "That's all that matters."

"No, it's not all that matters," he croaked. "We never went out today. We were in the house all day. How could something so stupid have slipped in like that?"

Remus frowned, pulling Sirius out at shoulder length to look him in the face. "What are you talking about?"

"This wasn't a coincidence."

"Sirius, I think you're being paranoid--"

"No! Listen!"

Remus sighed. "Very well, Padfoot, you have my attention."

"All day today...we were in the house. We both skipped breakfast cause we got up late. We didn't eat much of a lunch so we split a bowl of popcorn while watching a movie, and when we finally settled down to dinner we had the exact same thing."

There was a suspicious frown forming on Remus' face. "Are you saying...?"

"Somehow, someone or something slipped something into Harry's food."

There was another bout of silence in which Remus tried to consider this.

"That's impossible!" Remus stated at length. "There's no way-"

"Well I sure as hell didn't poison him Remus, and I don't think Hedwig would either."

"I wasn't implying that at all."

More silence followed.

"I don't like this," was all Remus could think to say after a few minutes had ticked by. "You really should report this to Dumbledore."

Sirius shivered and placed his hands above his elbows. "I will, as soon as I hear news on Harry's condition."

"Don't bother," Remus said after a moment's hesitation. "I'll write him. He'll be wanting to know more on what happened. Believe it or not, the man doesn't know everything all the time."

At that, Remus winked and turned on his heel to leave. "I'll be back," he shot over his shoulder.

Sirius merely shrugged. It was going to be a long night.


	9. All Over, All Over Again

**_A special thanks to Ms. Dianne for all of the wonderful reviews that she has given me over the past few days. This chapter is dedicated to her for all of her kind words, her tireless efforts, and her heartfelt encouragement. Thank you, ma'am, very, very much. (bows)_****_   
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All Over, All Over Again _**

Despite his newly obtained company in the lobby at Mungos, Sirius found himself very ill at ease. Nothing seemed right all of a sudden. Ever since he had walked through these doors he had felt a deep, nagging feeling in the back of his head. Something was awry. But what?

Everyone was here now. Remus, Dumbledore, Ron and his clan, Hermione and her parents, McGonagall, Hagrid, Tonks, Moody, and others from both the Ministry and the Order. All had joined the hubbub, although they did little to add to Sirius' ease. In fact, their presence only jumbled his thoughts more. How he wished that they would all quit casting sympathetic glances in his direction. The consistent reassuring of Harry's health was equally annoying, though he appreciated such gestures a bit more than the so-believed furtive gazes and whisperings that took place in the corners that were, assumedly, out of Sirius' range of hearing.

Truth to be told, there was little comfort for Sirius anywhere unless he was at home. Despite his thirteen years of imprisonment at Azkaban, Sirius had become somewhat of a loner over the past few years. Remus was his closest, and in some cases, his only friend in the outside world. Aside from Harry.

'Harry', he thought, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to remember the illuminating power of those green eyes. There was always a smile in those orbs these days, or so Sirius had come to believe. Perhaps he wasn't always happy, but Sirius had a way of seeing the child in Harry that so many thought to have died long ago with his youthful innocence.

Sirius, of course, knew otherwise. He knew that there was still a young troublemaker within the heart of the strong young lad that was famous worlds over in the Wizarding World. He knew that part of James beat in Harry's heart, and that thought was comforting as well as intriguing.

A grin passed over his pale features. Without realizing it, he had been tuning out a ward nurse for the past few seconds.

"Mr. Black!" the lady called again, sounding highly annoyed. Sirius opened his eyes to meet her stone-hard gaze. He sheepishly grinned, and stood to meet her.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Your godson is awake. You may see him if you like."

Sirius nodded. He didn't cast a glance over his shoulder toward the others. Why should he? Sirius could prove that he was strong enough to handle this. Right? He was capable of handling a circumstance such as this, was he not? He was Sirius Black, damn it! He could do whatever he set his mind to.

Yet, as he passed from the gazes of his friends and coworkers, that confidence diminished. He realized that he was here because, once again, someone had tried to take Harry from him. This time it had happened right underneath his nose, and he had been ignorant to the entire plot.

'Maybe I'm not strong enough for this,' he thought as he followed the nurse down the ever darkening corridors. 'Maybe I should have never taken Harry away from his aunt and uncle. Maybe he would have been better off if I had never come into his life.'

These thoughts, however, were wiped away as the lights were extinguished around him. A siren blazed from somewhere within the building. The flames of the thousands of candles that lit the halls flashed back on in vibrant reds and blues.

"What's going on?" Sirius yelled over the siren, clasping his hands over his ears to ease the pain of their ring.

"We're under attack!" The nurse hollered back at him over the din.

Sirius felt his heart skip a beat.

Harry.

Grasping at the nurse's shoulders, and trying desperately to ignore the painful ring in his ear, he asked her where Harry was being kept. She bit her lip against the pain as she lifted a hand to point in the general direction of Harry's room.

"Number seven-o-eight!" she screamed before running from the corridor in terror. Sirius sighed and began to run in the direction the nurse had pointed.

He didn't bother to yell a name. Sirius knew that he would never be heard over the deafening noise of the siren.

The candle light around him dimmed again. They flickered to life, faded once more, blazed into an angry red, and then died all together.

Whoever was here had somehow extinguished the magical properties of the entire building. Sirius cursed at this realization. Now they could easily get to Harry.

Sirius illuminated his wand, disregarding the consequences of such a careless act: it left him wide open for a targeted attack.

He didn't care. Sirius had only one thing on his mind, and nothing would deter him from it.

All of a sudden, Sirius came to a T section in the corridors. A sign overhead told him that to the left rested rooms 750 to 799. To the right laid rooms 749 to 700. A glance at the first door to his right told him that he would be starting from 749 and working his way up.

He cursed again. This was taking too much time already. Time that Sirius could not afford to lose.

With a burst of fear-induced energy, he leapt forward, all at once changing from his human body to his animagus form. He bound down the halls, barking warnings and ejaculating angry snarls to let any who threatened know that he was coming; and that he was pissed.

* * *

"You're certain he doesn't suspect?" asked Lucius Malfoy to the young man before him. This was quite a grand scheme they had all pulled off. Even the all-knowing Albus Dumbledore had fallen for it. Lord Voldemort was wise indeed.

"I'm sure. He has no idea of who really I am."

"Brilliant."

There was a nervous pause in which both of them could hear the baying of an angry dog. It was fast approaching.

Lucius sneered. "Good."

The other, however, was quite panicked at the sound; fearful of the creature that caused it. "He has found us out?"

"Hardly," the elder Malfoy smiled. "But he believes he knows our Lord's purpose. Come, let us set the trap and be done with it."

"Yes, father."

* * *

Sirius stood outside of room 708. He could hear a nervous shuffling inside, but didn't stop to think what it might mean. His only thoughts, every last part of his being, was focused only on Harry.

He opened the door to the room and realized too late his folly.

An intense explosion rocked St. Mungos that night.

Soon after, Sirius Black knew no more.

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_**No, don't worry, he's not dead! I would never do that to my favorite character (Why should I? Rowling already did it for me...grr!). But there are many surprises up ahead. Just you wait and see. I am sorry that this is so short. I have no school tomorrow so I promise to write more. I'll do my best to have an update by tomorrow night, but that will have to depend on how many reviews I get beforehand. (mischievous wink) ** _

**Please review!**


	10. Facing the Loss

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Facing the Loss

Sirius never remembered blacking out, and as he opened his eyes to find a blurry ceiling with a number of unfamiliar faces, his confusion escalated. He tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth. His body wouldn't respond to the demands of his brain, leaving him frustrated and vulnerable.

And Sirius did not like being vulnerable.

"He's awake," he heard a healer say all of a sudden. "His ears are still sensitive from the blast, but if you speak quietly he may be able to hear you."

Who was he talking to? Sirius tried to move his head but found that it was braced against something. He couldn't move his arms or legs either. For a moment, Sirius wondered if his head was even attached to his own body anymore.

The healers and nurses left, leaving him, he assumed, alone in the hospital room.

'Wait!' his mind screamed. 'Wait! Where's Harry?'

Of course no one could hear him. He was alone. Sighing, Sirius started to close his eyes when another voice sounded form the corner of the room.

"Do you think we should leave? He may need more rest."

It was Tonks!

Sirius' eyes shot open again. His gaze bolted from left to right, trying to find the source of that voice. Fighting against the restraints of his body, he was able to catch a glimpse of a head of hot pink hair. She was on his right, but another face came into focus from his left. Remus.

"Sirius, can you hear me?"

For the first time, he was able to make a sound. It was little more than a grunt, but it was something. And since he couldn't move his head more than a fraction of a centimeter, it was the only response he could give to any who were in the room now with him.

Remus seemed to understand well enough. He nodded, his pale features losing some of their edginess.

"Sirius, do you know what has happened?"

He lay still in his bed, blank faced. What had happened? Why, was something wrong? He closed his eyes, trying to recall the events from his last few minutes of consciousness. He had been running toward Harry's room. He had opened the door and...that was it. Everything had exploded around him and that was the last he knew.

Harry's room had exploded...Harry's room...Harry!

Sirius' eyes opened and glared questioningly at his friend.

Remus sighed.

"Harry wasn't in the room, Sirius," he said at length. "He was gone before you even got to the door."

Gone? Gone where?

"They got him, Sirius."

* * *

Months of pain and self torture returned to him with those three words. "They got him." Everything seemed to spin in his head. How? Why? To what purpose?

Why couldn't they have just been left alone? Why couldn't Voldemort find a new toy to play with? A new person to torture? Why did it always have to boil down to Harry?

"No..." Sirius hissed, the first words he'd spoken since waking. Tears streamed from his unblinking eyes, the only sign that he was feeling anything at all. Sirius was suddenly lost in a void that he could not rescue himself from. Harry was gone. That was it. There would certainly be no getting him back this time. Harry was lost. It was over.

"Sirius, I'm sorry," Tonks was hovering over him now, tears in her own eyes. "I'm so, so very sorry..."

Remus lifted a hand on her shoulder in comfort. "Perhaps it is best that we should leave."

She nodded, her face resting in her hands as she walked out the door. Remus followed with one last look over his shoulder at the broken man that was his only friend.

So much pain. So much torture, and so much loss. Of course, Remus understood all these things. There had been a very long and tormenting period in his own life when he believed he had nothing to live for as well. James, dead. Peter, dead. Sirius guilty for all of it. The people he had known and cared for were either gone, or not worth remembering.

How empty he had felt then.

And suddenly it had all returned to him. Sirius was innocent and Peter, alive, was to blame for the deaths of James and Lily. So much joy had filled his heart that day, and so much grief, for even as he had gained his one true friend back, he had lost him once more to a chase between authorities and fugitive.

After a while, it seemed as though he were on his own all over again.

The Dumbledore had called the Order back, and life had taken a new turn. It was almost like old times.

Suddenly, here they were again. Facing loss unbearable and knowing that there was little they could do to stop it. They were losing this war, and they were losing their loved ones.

Remus sighed.

'If only James and Lily were here.'

* * *

Numb.

That's all Sirius knew at this moment.

There was nothing in his heart. Nothing in his head accept for a void that he did not care to find an escape from.

Of course, he assumed this was it. This was the edge of his sanity. One more push and he was done for.

So, what to do with this last grasp on reality?

Revenge.

It was all that was left to a man like him. Revenge. The destruction of those who had destroyed him in turn. Why not? And when that last link was finished, he could sink away into whatever cold oblivion awaited him.

Yes, that seemed like the only path that he could take now.

The only path.

"I...will....avenge!" He growled against the pain.

* * *

After a week in cooperative therapy, Sirius was out of Mungos with a Doctor's warning against anything that was too draining on his body. This, of course, was not a factor that Sirius was concerned with. He had his mind set on what these next few days, months, weeks, or however long he had left to live, would be focused on.

Revenge.

He sat stiff faced and unresponsive at an Order Meeting on the first of September, listening to the words of Mad Eye Moody and Severus Snape.

"We have in an inkling as to where they may be headed," Moody started after a very long informative speech on the whereabouts of a few unimportant young Death Eaters that had newly gained a status amongst Voldemort's ranks. It was really nothing that interested Sirius, so he sat listening with very little to say. "We're certain that they've got another stronghold in Ireland, and we've been given reports of Owls being sent as far as France and Scotland to, we would assume, converse with others."

"So the plan is?" Tonks asked with a yawn. This was standard procedure at the meetings these days. A Death Eater here, a few gatherings there, and eventually someone would get a few hairs singed. What everyone really wanted was a good challenge. And a chance to bring down some of the more notable Death Eaters.

"The plan," Snape growled. "Is to counter them and bring them to the proper authorities."

"As is the plan every time we have one of these damned meetings," complained Arthur Weasley. He received a glare from his wife after having cussed, but he brushed it off. Things were growing tense with the Weasley's these days, as were they with many.

No one would admit why.

"We need to start acting as more than just the bloody militia! Bringing in three or four new recruits isn't doing anything for us. You-know-who is packing them in by the hundreds! We need to do more!"

"And what would you suggest we do, Weasley?" Sneered Snape.

Arthur went silent, not knowing what to do or say now. Apparently he hadn't expected that there would be a reaction to his words.

"As I thought," Snape went on. "Now, as I was saying--"

"We hit them where we think they're greatest."

All heads stopped and turned to consider the silent wraith at the end of the table. Sirius was still staring unaffected into some deep oblivion of his own mind, but he was responsive. More so than he had been in a while.

"I...I beg your pardon?"

Sirius looked up, a mad gleam in his eyes that caused those closest to him to inch away a bit.

"We're not doing this cavalry stuff anymore. If you want to make a difference, we barrel in where the thick is thickest and wipe them out."

"Can't do it, Sirius," Moody growled. He recognized that gleam in Sirius' eyes as the plea of a desperate man. He'd seen it many times before in the faces of others. "We can't risk the Order like that."

"Then send an assault team," Sirius reasoned. "If no one is willing to lead them, I will."

"Sirius," Remus began, but he was cut off.

"You're mad!" Severus spit, throwing a bunch of scrolls over his shoulder and stiffening. His eyes hardened on Sirius, and his lips tightened into a thin frown. "You can't do that!"

"Says who?" Sirius matched Severus' glare easily. "Who are you to say what I can and cannot do?"

"Have reason, will you?"

"For what purpose?"

"For your sanity, man!"

Neither of them noticed that their voices had been raised to near shouts at this time. The others simply watched as this situation escalated. They all understood where Sirius was coming from, but few could defy Snape's logic. Regardless of the situation at hand, they could not foolishly throw themselves away for something as miniscule as revenge.

"We can't just sit here and do nothing!" Sirius yelled.

"We are NOT--" came a voice from the entrance, "doing nothing."

All went silent and still, turning their gazes toward Albus Dumbledore. His visage was stern and unforgiving. His body was rigid with anger, and great bags had formed beneath his eyes. The image of Albus Dumbledore, looking so aged and tired, was a reminder to all of them that this was not a personal battle. Even Sirius realized this after seeing the man in such a haphazard state.

"And that will never be the case. Sirius, you will get you revenge, but for now you must be patient."

A seething rage built up within Sirius at that moment. Swiftly, he approached Albus as though to verbally challenge the man, but with the wave of a withered hand Sirius backed down, realizing his foolishness with shame.

"Patience, Sirius," he warned again. "Rash actions will lead to rash conclusions."

Sirius growled, indignantly forcing himself back into his seat.

For the remainder of the meeting, everyone save Dumbledore avoided eye contact with him. The meeting was adjourned an hour later and Sirius went home feeling heavy hearted and hopeless.

* * *

****

All right well, I hope that was satisfactory enough for now. I'll try and get something up again soon, but I don't know how long it might take me. I'm being offered an opportunity for publication for some of my poetry, but I have to submit a new piece within the next seven days otherwise the offer goes to another author.

Wish me luck, everyone! (smiles)


	11. Friends

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Friends

"So, Weasel-bee, I hear your friend Potter's gone missing!"

The shrewd, cold voice could only be one person. Unfortunately, that one person was the last person both Ron and Hermione wanted to see.

"Careful Malfoy," Ron hissed, not caring that all of the Hogwarts staff could see them from the long table at the head of the Great Hall. "I have no hesitations about kicking your-"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed as Hagrid passed within hearing range. Not that she really cared. She was just as eager to see Malfoy get his comeuppance as any other Gryffindor, but Hermione was wise enough to know that there was a time and a place for such things.

For Ron, anytime and anyplace was good enough to get at Malfoy.

"Careful, Weasel. You're getting your girlfriend in a huff!"

"Damn it, Malfoy!" Ron launched himself at Draco. The only thought he had was to rip that smug face off of his head for good.

An uproar broke out before the first punches were ever thrown, and by the time Dumbledore arrived on the scene with McGonagall and Snape, there was very little to be said over the situation.

"Malfoy. Weasley. Come with me," said the headmaster very sternly.

Hermione had no doubt in her mind that that was the last time she would be seeing Ron in school again.

* * *

"Come in," said a glum voice.

Hermione tensed, hesitating to open the door. What if Ron really was expelled? Could she take that?

"It's all right, Hermione."

Sighing, she opened the door...

...to a sight she did not want to see.

Ron had his suitcase open with most of his belongings already inside. He looked flustered beyond anything Hermione could ever recall, and that wasn't including the newest addition of a black eye; courtesy of the brawl Ron had involved himself in earlier that day.

"You've been expelled." she gasped, tears already forming in her eyes.

"Not expelled," Ron corrected. "Suspended."

Hermione looked up, only slightly relieved. "For how long?"

"A week."

"A week!" she hollered shrilly. "They can't do that! You'll miss too much school work."

Ron sighed. "Yeah, about that. Think you could owl my assignments to me while I'm gone?"

There was a sharp pause in which Ron knew that this was not the conversation Hermione was trying to lead him down. She was worried about more than Ron's school work. In fact, he might have been safe betting that this was the first time his schooling was at the very bottom of Hermione's list.

"Ron?"

He winced and turned finally to look her in the eye. "Yeah, Hermione?"

She stopped, trying, it seemed, to word all of her questions as best she could.

"Why did you do it?"

There was a pause in which Ron himself was left to consider his answer. He frowned, not really wanting to talk about it, but he knew that Hermione had zeroed in on him and there was no evading that.

Not anymore.

They'd both been quiet since Harry had disappeared. Neither ever wanting to say anything in case it may cause an emotional outburst from the other. But now the time had finally come for them to talk. If anything was going to be said, it would be said now, and there would be no more holding back on it.

"I don't know, Hermione," Ron sighed, slumping onto the vacant bed that would have been Harry's that year. "I don't know. I just...I hated the idea that Malfoy took pleasure in the fact that Harry's gone."

"Missing, Ron," she corrected through her own tears. Like a cat she gracefully stepped over the mess of clothes and books that were strewn across the floor, and nestled down next to Ron. He unconsciously put an arm around her shoulders as her head found a cradle upon his own.

"I'm worried, Hermione. I won't lie to you about it. I'm afraid I'll never see my best friend again." He paused. "You don't know how that tears me up inside."

"Don't I?" Hermione asked, her gaze falling onto her lap. "He was my best friend too, you know?"

"Is your best friend," Ron corrected, slightly mocking her sentiments from earlier.

Hermione grinned sadly. "Yes, of course."

"It's so wrong that he's not here. And they...no one...tells us a damn thing!"

"Ron," she whispered as a silent berate to his choice of words. His anger was beginning to show, and as much as Hermione feared that, she also appreciated it. Ron was finally opening up to her!

"We're his best friends, Hermione. They don't have the right to keep anything from us. We were there before anyone else. It should always be that way."

Hermione grinned, slightly touched by Ron's words. 'If only Harry were here now, listening to this,' she thought.

"I don't doubt that he knows we're worried, Ron," she started, trying to sound hopeful.

He only frowned. "What the hell good does worrying do if you can't do something?" He stood up suddenly and paced the room, his brow knit in an uncharacteristic amount of concentration. "By now Harry would have had a plan. He would know what to do in a situation like this! He was brave, and smart, and bloody fearless!"

"And...what were we, Ron?" she asked, the tears still not gone from her eyes. "Weren't we that too?" She paused. "Are you saying...without Harry, we're nothing? You and I...are nothing?"

He stopped and looked up at her. She in turn was gazing fiercely at him.

Something within Ron quivered at that moment. He wasn't sure if it was his heart or his stomach, but he suddenly became very aware of how mature he was acting in front of her and took great pride in his actions. But the sight of her tears changed that, and he found himself feeling instead, quite useless and weak.

Ron slid next to her and put his arms comfortingly around her shoulders.

"No, Hermione. You and I were never nothing. Not to me."

She smiled, taking comfort in that fact. "What do you think Harry thought of us?"

Ron paused, considering these words.

"I think, Harry thought us his greatest friends. Although he despised our bickering, I think he recognized the signs. That's why he always let it be. He knew what we would become, and he was happy for us."

"Do you think he still is?"

There was a long pause in which Ron didn't answer. For a moment, Hermione began to think that perhaps he hadn't heard, but when she turned her head to gaze up at him she was surprised to see that he was silently weeping with his head against one of the bed posts.

"I miss him," Ron said at last as Hermione wrapped her arms around his torso to try and comfort him. "And if he were here right now he'd know exactly what I should say to you, but he's not. And I don't know what to do for anyone. I feel so worthless."

Hermione, frowning against her own tears that now spilled down her cheeks, lifted a finger and pressed it against Ron's lips.

"You're not worthless," she said at last, trying to hide the break in her voice. "We always knew there would come a time when we couldn't help Harry with his battles. That became evident when he fell into that coma. We couldn't help him then, Ron, and we can't help him now. All we can do is make sure he finds his way home again."

Ron started to protest, but Hermione didn't let him. She pressed her lips to his in an attempt to silence both of their self-doubts. Harry was alive, he had to be because there were people waiting for him here. That was all there was too it, and for now it satisfied them both to dwell on this, that it was enough to bring Harry back.

They each lay in each others' arms until they could hear the shuffle of the first years in the Common Room below. When he could hear the new Head Boy telling them to follow him, Ron felt that it was time to leave.

With a last peck on Hermione's cheek, he disappeared down the stairway. Hermione was left holding her arms against the chill that seemed to have found it's way up her spine.


	12. Mysterious Deliveries

Hey everyone! Sorry for the delayed update. I've been busy. I'm also kind of depressed, so if this chapter isn't quite as up to beat as everything else I've written, that might be why. I'm sorry about that.

* * *

**Mysterious Deliveries**

A warm drink was all that soothed Sirius these days. Hot tea to defrost the chill that seemed to distill within his very blood. He was not the wrecked man he had been before. In fact, now he was hardly a man at all. Whatever was left of Sirius was far beyond a shell, or even the uttermost core of his being. It was a wraith. A spirit; the very entity of the vile darkness that made him up as a human being.

Now, that darkness was all that was left of the once much adored Sirius Black.

As of now, he sat at his desk within the grand study of Grimmauld Place, pouring over countless files and bunches of paperwork. All of them containing reports of the same thing.

Mission failed statements. Over and over, that was all Sirius' eyes saw magically inscribed upon every leaflet and every scrap of parchment.

It was no longer unnerving to Sirius, the fact that they were losing this war. He himself was counted among the many who acted as though he had nothing to lose in this on-going battle against the malevolent forces that were engaging themselves around the world.

'Let the world go to hell,' Sirius thought as he passed over another folder without even bothering to read it. 'I could use the company.'

It was the truth. People were so afraid of the man Black was now becoming that they only made contact with him when it was urgent. Even Remus, his closest friend, made less visits these days.

His excuse was that he did not want to disrupt Sirius' privacy, and he often enforced the fact that Sirius needed as much rest as he could get.

Sirius believed otherwise, of course, about his friend's intentions.

Taking another drink of tea, Sirius left his study, deciding that he had had enough of work for one day. Things weren't getting any better, and it wasn't like the Ministry was very eager to receive another negative report anytime soon.

"Maybe a hot shower will do me some good," the man grumbled as he rinsed out his tea cup and set it in the sink.

Hedwig, newly awakened on her perch, hooted.

"What do you want?" he snarled.

The owl stared at him indignantly, far from intimidated by his display of raw anger.

Sirius sighed and walked over to the perch, raising a hand to scratch the birds head.

"You're doing better than I am, old girl," he said in a low, scratchy voice. Hedwig hooted once more. Sirius could only guess she was agreeing with him.

He sighed again and started to leave, when there was a sudden knock on the door.

Frowning, Sirius debated answering it. He wasn't really in the mood for company, but if it was a visitor with an urgent message then the person knocking was most assuredly worth answering the door for.

He started toward the entryway with nothing on his mind, but just as Sirius moved to turn the doorknob he thought better of it. Pulling his wand from an inner pocket of his robes, Sirius peered out of the window to see who exactly was calling on him this late at night.

Oddly enough, there was no one in sight.

'Did they give up already?' Sirius asked himself with a raised eyebrow. Usually a Ministry worker, or a special deliverance messenger, would wait ten minutes while repeatedly knocking before finally giving up and heading back to the message source.

Sirius had hardly ninety seconds to get to the door. Why so impatient?

Carefully, he opened the door and peered out to the left and the right. There was most definitely no one there, and if he were in danger Sirius believed his instincts would have warned him by now.

Stiffly stepping out onto the stone step that lead to the door, Sirius peered around to find a small envelope resting beneath the mat before the step.

"Strange," he muttered.

There was a very strong rain falling outside, he realized all of a sudden. Surely any messenger would have wanted payment under the difficult circumstances. There was no reason that they would just leave like this.

'Unless it's not from the ministry,' said warning voice in his head.

He took the letter into the kitchen and set it on the table. He in turn then proceeded to sit and inspect the envelope thoroughly.

This consisted of him glaring at it for some time while he sat back with his arms crossed over his chest, debating on whether or not this letter was worth opening tonight.

There was no writing on the envelope, he noticed upon flipping it over. No return address, and no original address.

How had the person, or even the owl, delivering the message known where to go to?

'It's probably not even for me,' Sirius decided after a period of time. He stood and started to leave the room, but something about the envelope dragged him back. He considered the thing angrily this time, as though the fault were truly that of the item he was now presented with.

"What the hell are you?" he asked at length. He poked it with his wand and hissed in disappointment when nothing happened. It's contents apparently were not dangerous, whatever they were. "Reveal your secrets!" he demanded.

Nothing.

Sirius frowned.

Whatever this was, it was certainly concealed well. He paced a few moments, stopping only to consider the envelope from time to time until he came up with another option.

Standing over the envelope, wand in hand, he uttered nine words that he had not spoken since his school days.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

At first nothing happened, and Sirius was prepared to give up, but when he turned his gaze back to the envelope he noticed, to his surprise, that something was indeed happening.

Black lines grew like a rapidly sprouting tree, up and over the back of the envelope to reveal an amazing assortment of patterns and designs. He frowned, lifting it to see the front cover. It too was covered in designs, but not as intricately as the back.

Turning it over again, he stared hard at it. No one just decorated an envelope because they were bored! What was this all about?

Sirius lifted it up and inspected it over candle light to find nothing at all that would help him. In fact, he found that there was nothing in the envelope at all.

It was some trick, and Sirius was sitting here now pining over it like some sort of hungry dog.

Angry that he had been made a fool of, he stormed into his sitting room and tossed the envelope in the fireplace in his sitting room. He watched as it was devoured by the orange flames that danced wildly over the logs, and then left it there to go to bed, still angry.

What Sirius did not notice, was the glow of a new piece of paper that had been hidden within the envelope's folds. It slipped away between the logs, lost to the eyes of those who might be needing it again.

* * *

Okay, this is a filler, I know. But I didn't write this just to waste your time. The letter is an important part of the story. Just wait and see.

PS, thank you Stinky Stan for adding my stories to your C2 community. I have no idea what those things are, but you're welcome to leave them there!


	13. Birthday Wishes: Part I, The Past

All right, well I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, but if you'll give me a moment I'll explain myself:

I started to write this chapter on November 27th, but on that particular day my best friend informed that her cat died. So of course I mourned because my friend had suffered the loss of a beloved pet, and I was sad for her. This in turn brought back memories of when I lost my dog, Lady, and added to my depression for that day.

I tried to continue this story on the 28th, but I received news then that my great Aunt Mary passed away from cancer that same afternoon...that sent me into an emotional fit that I could not pull myself out of. I couldn't bring myself to write, and so I continued mourning.

I would have started and finished this on the first of December, but I couldn't because of the fact that I was told that my grandfather, who has a heart condition, drove by himself down to Kentucky to attend the funeral of his late sister. This set me off, because with the loss we recently have faced this year (my great grandfather, my grandpa's dad, passed away this July, and now with my great aunt Mary, my nerves were severely strung) I simply couldn't bare the thought of something happening to him while he was on the road or in his hotel room alone.

I didn't mourn, then. When I went to my room for the night, I balled. For hours straight I simply cried until my eyes were swollen and I was void of any energy. When I awoke the next morning, my eyes were red and swollen, and there were bags underneath my eyes like I'd never had before. I told my mom I was having stomach cramps that day and didn't go to school.

I really wanted someone to hold me and tell me that it would be okay. But I was too mad at my family for never telling me my grandpa left, and I never like running to friends with such confessions and expecting intimacy from them in turn.

And so that has been my week. I hope you all understand.

* * *

**Birthday Wishes, Part I: The Trouble with Blueberries**

The Past

Sirius tiptoed gracefully into the bedroom that contained his sleeping godson. It was July 31st, and that meant that the day was going to be full of fun, company, cake, and presents.

Today, Sirius' godson was turning sixteen, and his intentions were to make this Harry's most memorable birthday ever.

The streamers were already strung in the sitting room and kitchen, and a plethora of magical balloons and wizarding decorations were all in place for today's main event.

At first, Sirius worried if he had gone too far with the celebration, but then he remembered that this was Harry's first birthday with his true family (as if Sirius would have ever counted those atrocious muggles his family), and because it was Harry, he deserved the best.

That was exactly what Sirius intended to give him.

He waited at the foot of the bed, just in case Harry stirred.

Nothing.

Sirius grinned broadly and twiddled his fingers in anticipation.

Then, suddenly, with a roar and a bound he came crashing down on top of...

...a mesh of pillows?

Frowning, Sirius pulled back the covers on the half of the bed that he wasn't occupying to find that that had been the only thing underneath the sheets!

"Huh, the old jailbreak trick," Sirius mused outwardly. "And I fell for it."

"Yes, you. Of all people!" came a voice from the closet. As Sirius whirled his head around, he was met with the image of his godson flying at him over the foot of the bed.

Harry landed on top of him with a very hearty "oomph!"

"Gotcha!" He hollered, leaping away from Sirius' grasp in time to avoid getting a fist nudged into his unruly mop of black hair.

"Me of all people?" Sirius roared in laughter. "What's THAT supposed to mean?!"

But as Harry came around the foot of the bed once more, Sirius leapt after him. He wrapped his left arm around the boy's neck and firmly buried his right fist into the nest of jet black hair that sprouted from his crown in what was, any would realize, an affectionate display of fatherly/son-like play.

"Say it!" Sirius demanded with a grin on his face, his knuckles scraping Harry's head.

"NO!" Harry protested through his laughter.

"Say it!"

"NO!"

"Say UNCLE!"

"AUNT!"

"UNCLE!"

"AUNT!"

Before either of them knew it, they were rolling on the carpeting laughing. Tears streamed down Sirius' face while he held his sides, as though to prevent himself from exploding. Harry was in a similar state, his face reddened from the force of his own chuckling. It was a good number of minutes before either of them could speak again.

"So...was that your original plan?" Harry asked between deep gasps for air.

Sirius breathed in and out a few times before nodding.

"Didn't quite work out how I hoped," Sirius admitted, "but it'll do."

"Oh," Harry breathed. "I'm...glad."

Sirius grinned, reaching over to pat his godson's head.

"So...ready to turn sixteen?"

Smiling, Harry rolled onto his back and sat up. "I guess. I just hope this year will be slightly less eventful than the last."

Sirius grinned. "Make that two of us."

They both made their way downstairs. Harry noticed at once the colorful decorations and the balloons, and he gawked at the presentation.

"Wow, Sirius!" he said, gaping. Then, his countenance took on a more puzzled expression, and he asked; "isn't this all a little much?"

"For you?" the man answered with a smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Please don't tell me you invited all of the Order here to celebrate."

"Not all," Sirius stated in a very matter-of-fact tone. Then added; "only half," when Harry had left the room.

An indignant "I heard that!" erupted from the corridor that separated the kitchen from the sitting room, and Sirius couldn't help but snigger in amusement. Yeah, he heard it. But Harry should have known better than to think that Sirius would do less than this for him. Harry was the only thing Sirius had in his life that he could spoil, and in turn, Sirius was the only thing Harry had to rely on as a parental figure for such lavish treatment. And, due to the fact that Harry had received such grotesque care from his past guardians, Sirius felt that he should make up for it. He also wanted to make up for having never been there.

In reality, Sirius wanted to make up for a great number of things, and to him it felt like Harry was the only ground through which he could channel such acts of confession; and only through which he could gain salvation.

It was foolish, but Sirius was well aware of the fact that very little of what he did made sense. Least of all to himself. Yet he had his reasons, and that was enough basis to continue on with the motives he had already established.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the door.

"Harry, could you get that?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah all right, sure." Came the mock annoyed voice. Sirius grinned, shaking his head while he sorted through some of the breakfast plates that he had prepared (with some help from Mrs. Weasley). "Who would be coming at this early in the morning?" He suddenly asked, nearing the door.

Sirius shrugged, scratching his head while he pondered over the presentation of some bear claws. "I don't know. One of the Weasleys?" He paused, rounding on some muffins. "Or all of them," he added quietly so that whoever was at the door wouldn't hear.

"Oh, Hello Remus!" came a surprised statement a few seconds later. Sirius grinned. He should have known!

"You sound surprised to see me Harry," Remus stated in an ever so friendly fashion. One that, Sirius often wondered, if he reserved it simply for Harry, since he never used that tone with anyone else. "Did you think I'd forget?"

There was a hesitant chuckle. When Sirius stepped into the corridor he found himself grinning at the image of them embracing in something like an uncle-to-favorite-nephew manner.

"Now Remus," Sirius stated. "You know that if you forgot-"

"You'd hunt me down, I'm sure," Remus finished whilst holding up a hand to stop Sirius in mid-sentence. Harry laughed, taking Remus' coat (without him really realizing it) and then leading their small entourage back into the kitchen. "So, who else is bound to arrive?" he asked, clapping his hands together as he nestled himself down into a chair across from Harry at the main table.

"Whoever Sirius has invited, I'm sure."

"The whole Order?" Remus asked with a raised brow. Harry laughed while Sirius merely frowned.

"Not the whole Order," Sirius snapped in slight annoyance.

Harry snickered, adding; "only half."

This earned him a muffin: thrown directly at his head. Remus laughed while Harry sat picking blueberries out of his hair the rest of the morning, openly "criticizing" that the berries weren't properly distributed in the batter and that the frosting was too runny. This cause Remus to only laugh harder, and made Sirius search for something new (and more properly cooked) to throw.

Harry, of course, was saved by the doorbell.

It was Hermione Granger this time. And her first question; "Harry, are those blueberries in your hair?" caused those who were waiting in the kitchen to roar in laughter.

* * *

Sorry I'm going to have to cut it short there. It's about 1:06am right now, and I'm so tired I'm beginning to hallucinate.

Night all. I'll try to update sooner next time.


	14. Birthday Wishes: Part II, Past and Prese

**Birthday Wishes: Part II; Regrets**

The Present

"It's the twenty third of September," Sirius mused to himself with a glance at the clock. His brow furrowed at the thought, and a sad sigh escaped his lips. It was one of the few sounds he ever made these days. At least, in public. Lately he had taken up the habit of talking to himself, or Hedwig. Yet Sirius found that talking to himself was not nearly as rewarding, so normally it was Hedwig. She at least offered a hoot that sounded like some sort of opinionated response. All Sirius had to answer him was the echoing silence that lay like a winter blanket over his house.

Silence, and the occasional hoot from a snowy white owl, was all he ever heard these days.

That is, until a knock sounded on his door.

Sirius nearly leapt out of his skin at the unexpected noise. No one visited him anymore. Why would they now?

He sighed, not really caring who it was, or why they were here, and headed toward the door. The only sound that accompanied him was the lonely tapping of his own feet against the hard wood floor.

That was another sound he was used to, he realized.

Sirius reached for the knob and pulled the door open. The first thing he noticed, however, was not the fact that it was Remus Lupin standing at his door, but that it was raining. Again.

"Hello Sirius," said the familiar voice that was only too obviously forcing cheer and happiness. The lines on the man's face were creased, and Sirius noted as well that the bags that were typically beneath Remus' eyes were now unusually deep for this time of the month. The full moon was still a while away. "How are you this glum night?"

The man was quite literally soaked to the bone, and despite Sirius' usually bitter mood, he could not help but feel concern for his friend's health. He grabbed Remus by the wrist and dragged him inside. As he closed the door behind them he became conscious of the fact that the temperature of the house was quite unsuitable for Remus' condition, and without even realizing that his friend had been speaking, started away toward the sitting room to build up a fire so as to create a more reasonable atmosphere inside.

"Sirius?" Remus repeated, frowning as he watched his friend walk directly away from him. This was more aggravating then disturbing. He knew Sirius had been withdrawing from the world lately, but part of Remus had hoped that he would have been an exception. "Sirius?"

There was still no response, and as Sirius disappeared around the corner, Remus felt a great deal of anger and disappointment well up within himself. Surely things were hard for Sirius. Hell, they were getting more and more difficult for everyone, but nothing gave a man the right to simply dismiss the presence of his best friend in his own house.

"Damn it, Sirius!" he hissed, chasing after the man. He gripped Sirius at the shoulders and whirled him around until they were staring each other face to face.

It took a few moments to get over the shock of Sirius' own appearance. He was pale, and his face was lean. The eyes were not only lightless, but colorless and lacking any sort of dignified life signs. There was a nervous twitch below his left eye, and sweat beaded from his brow and upper lip.

'My God,' Remus thought, loosening his grip on the man's shoulders. 'Has he looked like this all this time?'

xxx

It took a few moments of realization to kick in before Sirius discovered himself staring into the concerned eyes of his old school friend.

"Sirius?! Are you listening to me?"

He blinked a few times, trying to pull himself out of his mental stupor. Shaking his head, Sirius pulled away. He raised a hand to his eyes and noted, for the first time, how badly he was shaking.

"I'm sorry, Remus," he apologized. "I wanted to get a fire started. It's cold outside and you're rather wet."

Remus himself blinked a few times, for this was surely not the response he had expected. Most believed Sirius to be beyond showing compassion for anyone these days. He held such a strong image of being hard hearted and cold. This display of warmth was...refreshing, and it gave Remus hope that perhaps Sirius wasn't truly lost as a man.

"Thank you," Remus said at length, bowing his gaze in taciturn apology. "I...really do not require--"

"Shut up and sit down," Sirius snapped, revealing some of his usual nature. He didn't like to come off immediately as caring and nurturing, unless it was toward Harry. Usually his hospitality was forced brutally, though it was always a comedic display in Remus' own opinion. It was very hard for Sirius to be intimidating, since he was a might bit shorter than Remus. Nevertheless, Remus acquiesced to his friend's demand. Partly because it might due the man some good to have some company; mostly because it felt good to be out of the unforgiving rain. Sirius was right, he was chilled, and part of him felt the on comings of a cold, or even the flu. He'd been working hard, and everything had been taking a toll on his body.

Plus, it felt good to be somewhere he knew he was welcome.

"How have you been?" Remus asked at length. Sirius was kneeling before the fireplace, trying to start a spark with his wand. Much to both their surprise, he wasn't doing too good of a job. When Remus didn't receive an answer, he chuckled. "Distracted?"

"Maybe a little," Sirius stated bluntly, waving his wand madly in his hand. His anger very clear.

When at last he couldn't get it to light at all, he threw his wand to the floor and collapsed onto his backside, frowning deeply into the grate.

"Maybe a lot," Remus corrected. There was a pause. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

Sirius sighed. He allowed the silence to grow between them for a few more moments while he considered his words.

"Do you ever wonder where he is, Remus?"

Remus frowned. "Pardon?"

"Harry. Do you ever wonder where he is? Or am I the only one?"

There was another pause. This time, Remus took the time to consider his words, and found that he couldn't really bring himself to answer the question. How did he feel about all of this? Well, the truth was, he had a lot of very defined feelings...but he wasn't sure he wanted any of them to be revealed.

"Remus?" Sirius asked again, this time sounding desperate. "Am I the only one? Am I the only one still holding out for him?"

"Sirius," he started. "If I told you yes, what would you say?"

There was a pause. This time it was longer.

However Sirius had taken that statement, it wasn't how Remus had intended.

"I would say...that I guess...it's time for me to give up too, isn't it?" Sirius turned his gaze over his shoulder toward Remus. "Is that true, Remus? Am I the only one still holding out for him?"

Remus honestly didn't know what to say. He felt like a mouse being cornered by a cat with no way out to be mentioned.

He sighed, knowing that it wasn't worth keeping secret anymore. Not in the face of everything they were holding up against. "No, Sirius. You aren't."

"Who then?"

Remus inhaled deeply, feeling slightly dizzy because of it.

"I am," he admitted, causing Sirius to furrow his brow and turn once more to face his long time friend. "I've always held out for Harry. For as long as I can remember, he's always been on my mind. The day they sent him to live with those muggles, I worried that he would never be taken care of the way Lily and James would have wanted him to be. I worried that he wouldn't learn about who he really was with the right frame of mind. I wondered if he would be happy.

"I never told you this before, but when Lily and James made you his godfather, I was jealous. Not that I didn't understand, of course. Being lycanthropic makes me incapable of caring for anyone else, and since it's so hard for me to keep a job, there are times when I can't even financially afford to hold myself up much less anyone else. Much less a young child. But nevertheless, I was jealous. I envied the bond that you would have with Harry. I hated the fact that fate had denied me that bond.

"I envied you even more because after Harry, you would have been able to have your own children and watch them grow alongside your godson. I wouldn't even get that. If I had children, I'd be bringing life into this world that would be touched by the same curse that I carry. I could never do that to someone, especially a child. My child. So, in a sense, I viewed Harry as being the only child I would ever come close to knowing as my own. But...he wasn't given to me. He was given to you. And that made me feel awful. It was worse than any persecution I had faced as a werewolf, and I know it always will be.

"I fought it only by pretending to be the person I had always wanted to be for him. When I was his teacher, I spent all the time I could with him. Even calling him to stay after class just to share some small talk every now and then. I wanted to talk with him, to get to know him. I wanted to be the person he could trust, because I knew that his aunt and uncle weren't what he needed. I guess...I wanted to be a father figure to him. I don't know if it ever worked out or not, but I promised myself that I'd always watch out for him, even if he didn't know I was.

"So, when you came to find Peter, my first instinct was to save him. Not just from Peter, but in a sense from you as well. I knew how restless you would be. That you would kill first and explain later, and that wasn't what Harry needed. At least, that's what I thought. I wanted to be there to help him understand exactly what had happened to his parents. I wanted him to believe that I could be his friend, that he could trust me more than anyone else. After all...who knows how to keep a secret better than I do?"

Remus smiled, and Sirius returned it.

"I did all I could, but in the end...I felt as though you had stolen him away from me again. You came and swept him off his feet with the possibility of a new home, a new life...everything he ever wanted. I was happy for him, of course, but I knew that whatever picture I had been in was now forgotten with these newly presented prospects. In the end I was alone again, and struggling once more.

"And now here I am. Telling you all of this, knowing I'll walk out of here highly ashamed of myself for having said anything, and having ever felt anything for a boy who was never meant to mean anything to me. But he did, and he always will I think; because he, like you and James, saw through what I was, and realized instead who I was. You don't forget the people who do that for you, especially when there are so few who will." Remus paused. "I will always hold out for Harry, until I see his body with my own eyes. I won't let go. I can't. He means too much to me."

There was a very, very long pause in which Remus could not bring himself to meet the gaze of his friend. Had he found such courage though, he would have seen that Sirius was not glaring at him, nor did he look amused at perceived foolishness, or numb from not caring. Sirius was, in all ways, astounded and shocked to learn that Remus felt, on so many different levels, the same way about Harry as he did.

"Why did you never tell me this before?" he asked, his pain forgotten in the face of Remus' own. "How could you...keep this from me for so long?"

The man allowed a slight chuckle. "Haven't you learned anything, Sirius? I'm a master secret keeper. Especially when it comes to my own."

"Remus..." Sirius stated, his eyes quivering in rapidly growing guilt. "Remus if I had known--"

"Don't," Remus interjected harshly, holding up a hand. "Don't bother. It's not my place to have a place in Harry's life. That job has been issued to you."

"Stop being an ass," Sirius growled. "You're a part of Harry's life whether you realize it or not."

Remus snorted disbelievingly. This caused Sirius' frown to darken.

"You are. He used to ask about you all the time, whenever I attended a meeting. He'd ask if you were there, how you were doing, if you looked all right. He would ask if you had found work, if you were looking for work, and he would then..." Sirius paused to laugh, "he would actually list places he had seen that were looking for people to hire."

At this statement, Remus too laughed. "Did he really?" he asked at length. Sirius nodded.

"You were a part of his life. You were the first person he met in the wizarding world that knew his parents better than anyone. I'm sure he had thousands of questions for you, he just was too afraid to ask."

Remus nodded, thinking back to the thirteen year old Harry he had first met. "Yes, Harry had been very meek back then. Not exactly the social butterfly you turned him into." He added the latter part with a sly wink.

Remus tossed a pillow at him, and they both shared, for the first time in a while, a good bout of laughter. It soon died away into a chorus of sighs though, and both were left to stare at the floor.

"I miss him," Sirius said at length.

Remus sighed. "Me too."

More silence followed, in which both only sat by and listened to the passing storm.

"Sirius?" Remus asked after a long time of nothing.

"Yes?"

"What happened the night Harry was taken?"

xxx

__

The Past

"Well, how was that for your first real birthday part?" Sirius asked with a wide smile on his face. He was downing his fifth mug of butterbeer while Harry was sheepishly working on his third.

"Amazing," Harry admitted. "I can't believe you invited all of those people."

Sirius grinned wickedly. "I invited Snape too, but I think he suspected we were planning on using him for the piñata."

Harry laughed, nearly spraying Butterbeer through his nose. "That would have been a treat, though I doubt there would have been much left of him; what with the entire Weasley clan being here and all."

"All the more reason to have had him come," Sirius said, the grin never dying from his face.

Harry merely shook his head, finding the humor of his godfather incredibly suitable for the time of day. It was nearing midnight, and despite the fact that both of them had had a hectic time keeping guests in check, they had both had a great time.

"Thank you, Sirius," he said, fully meaning it.

Sirius considered Harry's countenance. He'd never seen it so bright! There wasn't one ounce of dissatisfaction in the boy's tone either, and for the first time in a long time Sirius was proud that he had done something one hundred percent right for someone that he cared about.

"There's no need to thank me, Harry. I wanted to do it."

"Still," Harry continued, blushing slightly. "No one's ever gone all out for me before. It was...nice."

Sirius shook his head. "Don't say 'no one'. You have no idea the parties your parents used to throw for you."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Sirius nodded, and then began a very long tail about his trip home from the hospital. James had arranged it all, for both Lily and Harry, and when they had come home, the entire Order, plus their old school friends, and their old school professors, were waiting with gifts and congratulations in tow. Sirius, of course, had been the first to hold the baby upon reaching home, seconded by Remus and then Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore was there?" Harry asked, amazed.

"Everyone was there, Harry. Even Mad-Eye."

"Mad-eye? As in Mad-eye moody?"

Sirius snickered at the expression of his godson's face. He seemed absolutely stricken with amazement.

"Yes, even our dear old Alastor Moody."

Harry settled a little deeper into the chair, going red with embarrassment. "Wow," he whispered.

Laughing, Sirius stood and headed toward the kitchen, ruffling Harry's hair as he went. There was still some cleaning to be done, but it could wait till the morning. Sirius was too tired. All he wanted to do was give Harry a birthday hug and then send him off to bed before going to his own.

That would have been viable, if at that very moment the sitting room wasn't rocked with an incredibly large explosion. Sirius was blown off of his feet from the sheer shock of the sound. When he came to he found himself covered in debris.

"Harry?" he coughed, praying that the boy hadn't been in there when the explosion had occurred. When there was no answer, his concern mounted. "Harry!?!"

"Here!" came a meek response. Harry himself was coughing from the amount of dust that was now in the air. As the clouds settled he caught sight of a form on the ground that was struggling to reach the furthest corner of the room. A trail of blood followed after him, revealing a serious injury. "Harry?!"

He was able to reach the boy through the fog of dust and debris. Harry was pale and wide eyed, grasping at his leg while biting at his bottom lip. One look at the injury and Sirius had to fight off a sudden and severe wave of nausea. The upper half of Harry's tibia was jutting out from beneath his knee cap.

"What the hell-?" Sirius whispered. He pulled up the trailing hem of his robes and began to rip off long bits of fabric. He wrapped Harry's leg to stall the bleeding, despite the boy's pleas to leave it. "What happened?"

Harry didn't speak. He only pointed. As Sirius looked up he saw the answer to his question. Five Death Eaters were standing where a grand portion of the wall had been only a few minutes ago. And they weren't just any Death Eaters, either. Sirius could tell that one was most definitely Lucius Malfoy. Another was Bellatrix Lestrange; that jet black hair was a famous trait of the Black family line. It spilled out from behind her hood and down her shoulders, revealing her identity despite the mask. One was Peter himself, that silver mass of a hand was unmistakable. The others were unimportant as far as their identity, but he knew exactly why they had come.

"I'm warning you," he hissed. "leave now, because I will show you no mercy."

"How cute," said Bellatrix. Her sneer was hidden by her mask, but Sirius sensed it despite that matter. "The dog is protecting his pup."

"Damn straight!" Sirius hissed, disregarding the obvious insult. He stepped back and bumped Harry's wounded leg. The boy hissed in pain but didn't say anything.

"Brilliant. He's injured," said Malfoy from behind one of the four other masks. "He'll be easier to take that way."

But before anyone expected anything, Sirius, roaring in anger, let lose a flurry of curses and jinxes that would have sent most other Death Eaters scurrying. But these knew Sirius well, and knew that eventually, he would make one fatal mistake.

It didn't take long for him to make it, either.

Sidestepping one stream of green light, Sirius left Harry wide open for an attack. Malfoy took the opening, and mercilessly unleashed the most painful of the Unforgivable curses.

Harry didn't scream, but the pain on his face was recognizable. Sirius saw the attack and roared again in anger. He abandoned his human form and transformed into the huge black dog, taking Malfoy down in a split second of well channeled rage.

Unfortunately, this left Sirius and Harry wide open to any sort of attacks. Not that it was necessary on the latter. Harry lie limp on the ground, unmoving.

One attack from Lestrange's wand sent the black dog scurrying down the corridor, unconscious and bruised. That was the last thing Sirius remembered. When he awoke, he was in the hospital with Remus and Dumbledore leaning over him, the answer as to Harry's whereabouts written quite plainly across their faces.

xxx

__

The Present

When Sirius finished, it seemed as though the whole world had decided to go silent. Even the ticking sound of the clock was lost to them as they sat and pondered over nothing in particular.

"I don't understand why they would just suddenly come and take him."

"It doesn't matter why," Sirius argued, his brow furrowing in anger. "The fact is they did. They did it twice. And I don't care what happens, I'm killing every last one of them for taking him away from me."

Remus sighed. That wasn't the route he wanted to travel down tonight.

"Why are you here?"

"Hmm?" Remus asked, not certain if he had heard that question right.

"Why did you come? I mean...through all the rain and cold...did you have something you needed to tell me?"

"Oh...as a matter of fact I did." Remus shifted in his seat and pulled a letter out of his pocket. It was a regular envelope that looked slightly familiar to Sirius. "Dumbledore said he wants you to keep on the lookout for one of these."

"Why?" Sirius asked, swallowing hard against the dryness in his throat.

Luckily, Remus didn't notice. "Apparently, a few families who have lost someone as prisoners to the Dark Forces have received mysterious envelopes that can only be opened by voice commands. These commands have to be some sort of connection between the receiver and the sender, however. This provides confidentiality, so even if the envelope is opened by someone who isn't supposed to be reading it, it appears as nothing more than an empty parcel. I told Dumbledore....my God, Sirius you're as white as a ghost! What is it?"

Sirius gripped the rug beneath him while staring disbelievingly at his friend.

"I received one of those...not too long ago..."

Remus blinked, his expression was blank only because he didn't know how to process this information. "You...what?"

"A letter...like that...I got it...not too long ago."

Remus blinked again. "And you did...what with it?"

"I..." Sirius stopped and turned toward the fire.

"Sirius?"

"I...I couldn't figure it out so I...I got angry and..."

"You threw it in the fire?"

Sirius nodded, feeling incredibly stupid.

They both stopped for a moment, exchanged glances, and as one bull rushed the grate to try and find the envelope.

What they found, were the charred remains of one sliver of paper beneath all of the logs and ash.

Dirty and heartbroken, Remus tossed it aside. But Sirius wasn't so eager to give in. He picked up the paper and inspected it.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said, raising his wand and tapping the parchment continuously. Lines began to form once more on the paper, but Sirius could still make very little of it out. "That's as far as I get, Remy," he said with a frown. Sirius shoved it into Remus' hands and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning.

"There's got to be more to it then that."

"Well then, figure it out!" Sirius snapped, a bit more harsh than he had intended.

Remus sat in contemplation, unconsciously nibbling at the end of his wand. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good..." he whispered, as though trying to conjure a deeper, more personal memory from the statement. "I solemnly swear..." he stopped. Raising his wand, he spoke ; "The Marauders Map." The letter glowed slightly, then did nothing.

"Damn it!" Sirius hissed.

"No! That's good!"

"What?"

Remus stood and began to pace. "That's a second piece to the puzzle. The Marauders Map. It has something to do with our map."

"And the password?"

Remus nodded and continued his pacing. "I solemnly swear..." and "The Marauders Map..." were repeated every few minutes while he put the pieces together. Sirius merely sat, quietly waiting while the wheels turned in Remus' head.

Suddenly the shuffling of feet stopped, and Remus picked the paper up once more. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs!"

The letter glowed yellow at first, then progressed to a bright orange, and then finally a brilliantly blinding blue. It exploded in Remus' hands, causing him to spiral back from the pain in his eyes.

"Remus!" Sirius yelled, thinking that harm had befallen his friend. When he reached the man's side, however, he was relieved to find that other than being slightly stunned, he was fine. What shocked them both is what stood in the center of the sitting room before them.

It was a hologram-like image of Harry.

"Hello," it greeted, as though this were quite normal. Sirius and Remus merely stared on. "God is it good to see you." Sirius could have said the same thing, but he wasn't sure how to word a response to a made up image. "We've been sending these out to our families and friends for weeks now. I had to wait longer because I had more that I wanted to say to you. Both of you."

This statement made them both jump in surprise.

"Can he see us?" Sirius asked Remus.

"I've imprinted my memory into this paper. A bit more advanced than the other messages, but I thought you might like something a bit more substantial to prove that I'm alive, and that I am who I say I am." He stopped, winking. "And yes, I can see you. I'm communicating with you in a manner that is something like telepathy."

"Where are you?" Sirius asked, standing rapidly.

"We're in Scotland, I know that much," Harry answered honestly. "In some large castle on the sea side. We're facing east because the sun rises outside of my cell every morning."

"Eastern side of Scotland on the shore?" Remus asked. "What do you see on the shoreline? Any special landmarks? Something we can use to help us pinpoint where you are exactly?"

"Other then sand?" Harry asked with a grin. "There's a large stone structure that was probably used to ward off Pagan natives at one time or another. But I--"

"MacMurphy's Keep?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that sounds right. I vaguely remember Hermione telling me about it from Muggle Studies at one time." He laughed slightly at the memory. "How is everyone?"

"Stressed," they said together.

"I see," Harry dropped his gaze. "I'm...sorry..."

"Don't be," they said again in unison.

Harry had to laugh that time. "You two are getting scary. But look...about every Death Eater Voldemort has is here. Don't come alone."

"All right," said Sirius. "Where are you being held?"

"The dungeon, of all places."

He afforded himself a slight grin. "We'll get there Harry."

"I know you will."

The image started to fade, but all of a sudden Sirius cried out to him.

"Harry! I...I need to talk to you."

"You may have to make it fast, Sirius," he whispered, looking over his shoulder. "I hear someone coming."

"I...I'm sorry I wasn't able to save you at Mungos."

Harry frowned. "Mungos. Sirius that was a while ago."

This caused Remus to frown, and Sirius as well. They exchanged confused glances before turning back to face the image of Harry. "No I mean, just a few weeks ago, when you were in the hospital from the poisoning effects."

Harry blinked, looking from one to the other. "You're joking, right? Sirius I haven't seen you since July!" This statement caused Sirius' blood to freeze in his veins. Remus looked only slightly better for it. "Sirius, what's wrong?"

Sirius couldn't answer. He was sorting through too many things in his mind. It was Remus who had to bring himself to speak.

"Harry...someone fooled us into thinking that they were you."

Harry blinked. "You...they did?" There was a nervous silence in which both Remus and Sirius felt extremely guilty for having never brought themselves to realize the difference. Harry recognized their guilt, and believed that it was up to him to make the situation better. "Well, whoever it was, they must have been pretty good to fool you two."

"Don't worry about that, the point is we need to find you and now. Harry, who's with you?"

"Right now? No one. They've been taken away."

Sirius felt his heart throb in his chest. "Taken away? Where?"

"Not sure, but I think it's not much longer till they come back for me."

"Then we have to get to you now."

"They're not killing us. I think it's some sort of interrogation."

"Harry," Remus started, but the boy held up a hand to protest.

"Don't worry about it now. Just get here when you can, and come prepared. You're going to need more than the Order at your side."

"Is it that bad?"

Harry moved to answer, but as he did so the image failed, and they were left staring at the wall opposite them.

"NO!" Sirius hissed, spelling the paper again and again to bring his godson back, if only for a second. When all attempts failed, he turned an angry glare to Remus. "We have to find him. Now."

xxx

Wow! Eleven pages. Well, how was that? Please review.

By the way, sorry the dividers are so cheesy. My computer kept freezing every time I tried to insert them.


	15. Sirius' Apology: A Man Like You

**Author's Note:** Woah...an update.

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* * *

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**A Man Like You:** Sirius' apology

James; I wish you could hear me.

From the moment you've been gone, my life has been nothing but hell. No one was there for me once you were gone. It seemed as though my whole world had come crashing down.

A part of me knows that it did.

Nothing is the same anymore, my friend, and no matter what I do to make up for it, you'll still be gone, and I'll still be missing you.

It seems so surreal, me here without you. Strangely enough, I always believed I would be the first one to go. Why? I'll never know. Maybe I just never wanted to envision my life without my best friend. Everything in my life revolved around you since the day I met you. You were a piece of me that was missing, and when I found you it made the world easier to face.

There's nothing wrong with men needing each other. I needed you to keep me going. You never let me quit no matter how badly I wanted to give up at times. You were always there, James.

And then, suddenly, you weren't.

It was so selfish of me to think that you would be there forever. Selfish and foolish. It didn't seem possible, that you would be gone one day. The concept of a world without my best friend never even crossed my mind. Not that I wasn't scared to lose my friends, but I never thought that it would happen. It was the one thing I would never allow to happen. I would not fail my friends; friends who were all that I had in my life. I wouldn't allow it to happen.

But it did. It did happen.

That's my own fault. If I hadn't been so stupid I never would have made the mistake to trust Peter with your safety, and the safety of your family. Because of me, you and Lily are both gone. And I don't care what everyone else says, I will never accept it otherwise. I bear the pain of your absence everyday. It is a punishment I readily accept for my ignorance, but unfortunately, others must feel this pain as well. Especially your son.

James, if you were here, there's no doubt in my mind of the pride you would feel for your son. I imagine it would be equivalent to my own. He's almost exactly like you, you know? But he has enough of Lily's good graces to keep him out of the kind of trouble you and I usually found ourselves in.

Everyone is so fond of him, James. It hurts to think that you're not here to watch him become a man. A man like you.

Time was never good to me, James. It still isn't. I am forever running out of time, and it seems that I'm always losing my battles. I lost my brother to Voldemort; I lost you and Lily to death; I lost a great portion of my life to Azkaban. Now I many lose Harry too, and after that there will be nothing left of me.

Why must things always be so difficult for us, James? When will life be easy? When will the world leave me alone in peace?

Help me, James. I'm so lost without you. I need your guidance now more than ever. Everyone thinks we were so much alike. We were nothing alike. What would you do in a situation like this? You would be at action. You would be working to find your son. Where am I, James? Do you know where I am? I'm sitting at home, soaking up all of the alcohol I can find to help me get through these days.

I need your help again, old friend. I need help...

If nothing else is ever mine again, if I can never retrieve that which I lost, please, at least bring Harry back to me.

He's all that I have left, James.

Maybe if you were here, things would be different, but that isn't the case anymore, old friend.

You're not here, and Harry is now in my custody.

Forgive me, my friend, for failing you. But please, don't take Harry away from me.

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**Author's Note:** Yes, it's short. I know. I'm sorry. Visit the link to my live-journal in my bio page if you're interested in my excuse.


	16. The Inner Battle

It were as if God had slowly cast a blanket out over the slumbering countryside of England. Inch by inch, the light of the sun had died away, replaced only by the inestimable, solid pinpricks of the ancient constellations and their stars . The moon was nowhere in sight, leaving the roads and trails that had been planned out; leaving the routes and paths they were to take; leaving everything before them to be bathed in a clandestine shadow that warped the very sense of reality for each and every member of the Order of the Phoenix.

This was the time of day they had all been waiting for. Dumbledore had arranged for their departure one hour after sunset, when nothing would reveal their movements. They would use the Floo Network to be transported to a fellow Order member's summer home on the Scotland seaside. From there they would wait for a signal; a single, green flamed candle to be lit in one of the windows of an abandoned Presbyterian church. When the signal came, they were to move out. On foot they would reach the base of the keep that acted as Voldemort's asylum, and from there they would be met by one of the Ministry's most esteemed collection of Aurors. Together they would use stealth-brooms to reach the uppermost parts of the keep, and then work their way down until they reached the dungeon.

The plan was tricky, and many had believed it to be unstable and foolish at best, but it was, unfortunately, all they had. It was all Sirius had if he ever wanted to get his godson back.

It had taken days for them to get to this point. Days of training, days of planning, days of striking up failsafe after failsafe, and days of mental preparation. They all knew what they were heading into, and most were wise enough to understand that chances of everyone coming out of this full fledged, claustrophobic war were quite unlikely. But they also knew that come what may, they had a duty to pay to whosoever may be trapped within the walls of the keep.

Sirius was not so gung-ho over the matter, however. He had come along for one thing and one thing only, and it was a tacit understanding among most of the participating occupants that Sirius' intentions were directed only toward rescuing Harry, his impromptu son figure, and the only thing worth anything in his otherwise self proclaimed worthless existence. Without Harry he had nothing, and if harm had befallen him, Sirius was quite willing to believe that there was very little left for him outside of the past he had so desperately come to cling to in vain attempts to keep his hopes alive, as well as his sanity, over the past few weeks.

Weeks.

In reality, Harry had been gone for months, but he'd been too stupid to notice it. The trick had been marvelous, he had to admit. To fool Sirius Black into believing that Harry Potter, his Harry, had been being portrayed by none other than Draco Malfoy, was cunning at least. Brilliant, perhaps, at best. But Sirius didn't want to give the monsters that called a murderer their master any such credit. They would all die for what they'd done to him, and if Harry was harmed, he promised himself that their deaths would be carried out as long as humanely possible.

Long ago, torture had been against Sirius' ethical and value system, but as of now, he no longer lived by any system. Such things were no longer beneath him.

And if Harry was dead, nothing would be beneath him. He'd take all of those bastards out, saving just enough strength so that the roof of the keep might fall upon all of theirs and his own head, finally ending his misery. It was the least he could do for himself.

* * *

Remus watched from a chair near the fire as Sirius glared hatefully out onto the world that surrounded them. None of the others who shared this room with them noticed, but that was the way of it. To the untrained eye, Sirius looked cool, calm, collected and well placed. But Remus knew better. He could see the rage, the fury, the pure contempt and self loathing that seethed in that man's eyes. He could see the slight quiver of a nerve that pulsed rapidly above Sirius' right temple, and he could see the tiny beads of sweat that were birthing from the pores of his skin. 

If fear were being embodied this night, it was doing so in Sirius.

With a glance backward at the other Order members who were going through similar methods of mental preparation, Remus stood and stepped to his friend's side. He never said a word, understanding that nothing he could say would pull Sirius from his stupor. He was going to have to wait. Sirius would come around in time, as he always did, and then all would be mended. The slate would be wiped clean of troubled thoughts...for an hour or so. But as the day went on, it would become cluttered again, and Sirius' guilt would threaten to surpass him and manifest into the emotional monster that continuously consumed him day in and day out.

Such was the motions of the cycle; the inner battle for Sirius' sanity.

"You know," said Remus, his voice hushed so that only they may hear. "If you don't walk into this thing with a clear head...you might not walk out of it at all."

There was a slight twinge of indignation in Sirius' eyes, but as he cast his gaze down at his feet, he realized quite easily the logic of his friend's well meant words.

"Thank you Remus," he stated with a hint of apathy. "I'll remember that."

Remus sighed. He bent his head in thought at what he might say to get through to his friend. If they weren't careful, they would all be hurt, and despite the aggravation and frustration Remus felt at the encroaching sense of doom, and the possibility that Harry was hurt, or worse, he felt a great deal of concern and dread at the possibility of losing his oldest and dearest friend.

Sirius was most likely going to rush blindly into this mess without so much as a second thought. Such carelessness would endanger him and others. The operation at hand was too delicate for suck recklessness, and it was in Sirius' best interests that Remus seriously considered having Dumbledore suspend the man from the mission.

Knowing that that would probably only create more trouble, the man spoke the only words he could think of that would strike some sense of realization into his friend's heart:

"You'll be no good to Harry if you're dead."

There was a long pause in which both men let the statement rest. The silence etched on for what seemed like eons between the two, but the startling effects of those words were felt by none other around them. The atmosphere was that thick with apprehension.

"I beg your pardon?" Sirius voiced lightly, not quite sure he'd heard such a blunt statement erupt from the lips of his wise old friend.

"If you die in this mission...what does Harry have to come back to?"

Sirius turned his gaze upon Remus for the first time that night.

"What makes you think I'm going to die?"

Another wave of awed hush brushed between them, and for a moment Remus serious considered just walking away.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what do you mean?"

Clearing his throat, Remus looked out onto the countryside, seeming disinterested in his companion's question.

"I haven't known Harry for very long," he began with the slightest hint of a grin. "And I was never as close to James and Lily that you were. But regardless of my own personal distance, I learned to read people very well. I know when someone's keeping a secret. After all, who does that better then me?" They shared a short laugh at the truth in Remus' own words before he went on. "I could read it on James and Lily that they loved each other. I could read it on Harry that he understood, in a sense, everything that always happened around him when he was a child. I could sense his inner wisdom when I met him thirteen years later as his Professor, and I learned to read him better as I came to know him as a," he paused, thinking on his words. "A friend, I suppose. I could read the two of you through your interactions and I knew that you cared about each other, equivalently as a father would a son and visa versa." Sirius nodded, listening eagerly to a voice that wasn't his own screaming conscience for once. "But as I sit here and read you now...I don't see much."

There was another laugh, but this one came from Sirius alone. He had no doubt in his mind that Remus could see inside of him. It was a gift he had, and a well practiced one at that. Whether it was because of his slightly more acute senses, or simply because Remus was so much wiser than he, Sirius didn't know. But any perception from his old friend was definitely one to take into regard. He wasn't one to spit out rainy day prophecies.

"What do you see, Remus?"

Remus glanced in his direction. He turned to stare outside once more, then doubled back to meet his friend's face once more.

"Anger."

Sirius raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Anger?" he asked without bothering to hide some sarcastic awe.

Remus nodded. "And contempt."

"Contempt," the other echoed.

"Malice."

Sirius nodded, taking none of this very seriously.

"Despair. Anxiety. Self loathing."

"Are you planning on going anywhere with this soon Remus or do I have time for a cup of tea?"

Remus grinned knowingly, repeated a double back glance to the world outside, then stopped abruptly.

"And a longing to forthwith dive head first into a lake of ruin over a desperate attempt to regain that which in the end has nothing."

These words took the breath from Sirius' lungs. He glared at his old friend, wondering whether he should punch him or simply walk away.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You'll not be getting it, Sirius," the man stated very matter-of-factly. "You sit here fuming over all the things they've done to you. Rightfully so. You sit here and you fear for Harry's life. Who am I to say you have no right to do that? We all share that fear. But you can't simply think that running into this headlong is a way to handle the situation."

"I-"

"Harry depends on you, just as you do on him. Sirius, if you act foolishly and get yourself killed he has nothing to go back to except his Aunt and his Uncle, and we've heard enough of them to last us for ages of guilt and anger. You can't be the old Sirius Black. You have to make sure you're careful in there because if you're die, so does Harry's way of life. And in a sense, so will Harry."

Sirius bit his lip.

"I know it's hard for you to think clearly. You're afraid. Of what we may find in there. But that's no reason to act brash. You have to use your head, Sirius. You have to work through that inner battle before you begin the outer one."

"I can't do that. Not now. I'm too close to getting him back. I can't worry about me right now."

"Well," Remus sighed. "You know how the saying goes, Sirius. But in this case, if you lose the battle, there's no sense in fighting the war because you've already lost the first stand."

Sirius frowned and considered his friend. Remus merely smiled back, patted his shoulder, and headed back toward the fire where he and the others awaited word from the Ministry to get on the move.

* * *

Not ten minutes later, Dumbledore's head appeared in the flames. 

"Alastor, is everyone ready?"

Alastor Moody stepped forward, grim determination set on his grizzled face.

"Ready, Dumbledore."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone," came the answer from the back. All turned to consider Sirius Black, looking as prepared as the rest to get on the way. "Let's go."


	17. Pangs

_Holy hell! Another update? gasp_

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****

It makes a difference

that I'm feeling this way,

with plenty to think about

and so little to say.

* * *

Had Sirius know that their temporary accommodations before the initial plunge would have been so uncomfortable, he might have seconded waiting on the beach. Regardless, no one was allowed to leave until the signal was placed. He found himself staring longingly out of the one window in the cottage, dead centered on the most conspicuous window in his line of view.

They called this a summer home?

Sirius didn't understand what was so warm about the place. It was a dump! There were spider webs and herds of dust bunnies at every turn. The one and only window in the place was so filthy that three wizards had had to set cleaning charms on it and in the end still needed to wipe a few spots with the edges of their robes. The fireplace was blocked so there wasn't even an option for warmth as the chill night air seeped into the one roomed cottage through poorly insulated walls.

"I guess we know why they only come here in the summer," growled Alastor Moody in an attempt to lighten the hearts of those who were sharing this one roomed hell hole. There was a whispering wave of grumbles and shrewd remarks, but nothing that every fully reached the ears of another. No one was willing to gripe out loud. They knew why they were here, and that was enough of a reason to endure the discomfort if only for a little while longer.

A gentle tap reached Sirius' shoulder. He turned abruptly to see the face of Remus Lupin smiling down on him.

"Can you see anything?" he asked, pulling a chair up next to his old comrade.

Sirius lurched forward slightly to get a better view of the world outside. "Barely."

Chuckling, Remus peered around at the other miserable blokes that were only enjoying their accommodations less than they.

"Let me ask you something, Sirius," he said at length, eyeing one Order member in particular.

"What is it?"

"Do you see that young woman, over there?"

Sirius frowned, slightly baffled. As he turned his gaze, he caught a glimpse of Nymphandora Tonks sitting beside the lifeless fireplace. She had fingerless gloves and a shawl over her already disheveled robes. Her neon pink hair was matted to her head, giving the slightest impression of a squashed, discolored dandelion.

"That's Tonks," Sirius observed dumbly.

"Yes, I know. But do you know why she's here?"

"Because she's a member of the Order?"

Remus grinned. It wasn't his typical grin. It was, instead, the smile he used to politely let someone know that he, Remus, knew something that the person he was speaking to obviously did not.

"All right, Remus," Sirius stated with a grin. "If you're so certain of another reason; why is she here?"

Remus cleared his throat and lowered his voice so that no one might overhear them.

"When Tonks was eight years old, her oldest brother got mixed up into the Dark Arts."

Sirius' brow raised in amazement. "Really?"

Nodding, Remus went on. "He got into it, and I mean really into it. He loved the power. He loved the fear that he could invoke when he wore the Death Eater robes and the masks. He loved it all."

"What happened?"

"One day, Voldemort found out that Ty, her brother's name, that their dad was an Auror. He promised Ty a seat at his right hand if he betrayed his family and sold them to him."

"And?"

Remus shook his head, sitting back. "He wouldn't do it. He rushed home to find the Death Eaters torturing his parents and killed them all. Voldemort arrived a few moments later and killed him."

"Where was-"

"With her cousins. Out playing a few miles away."

Sirius cursed under his breath, casting a quick sidelong glance at the young woman who seemed so determined to get this mission through and over with. He had never believed that someone could hold such painful memories inside of them and yet put up such a happy visage all the time.

"How does she do it?" Sirius asked at length.

"Satisfaction," Remus stated in a very 'matter of fact' tone. "That in the end, her brother died doing the right thing."

"Unlike some others," Sirius grumbled, memories retreating back to his own brother. Regulus, Sirius' younger brother, had been too weak to stand up for even his own twisted beliefs. In the end he had grown afraid and tried to run away, but the Death Eaters and Voldemort had killed him before he could set one foot outside of their circle.

Remus looked away, allowing himself a moment of silence out of respect for the dead they now spoke of. When he finished, he turned his gaze and pointed in the direction of another.

"You know him no dounbt?"

Sirius peered over his shoulder. Mishak Allen, a long time, more secretive member of the Order. He'd been called away from duty in Greenland to help with this mission. After being told the situation at hand, Mishak had been more than willing to lend any help that he could. Allen had been a long time friend of the Potters, and Sirius and Remus. News of their newest predicaments had brought him out here, and that was all, so Sirius had believed.

"Yeah."

"He lost a son to Voldemort."

A sharp pang bit Sirius' heart. He couldn't imagine the sheer disappointment and pain that would inflict upon a man. It was worse than losing your child to death.

"He's going to fight against his son?"

Remus nodded. "Imagine _his _inner turmoil."

Sirius sighed, and Remus pointed to another figure. "Kailee Marks," he said at length. "She had two daughters. Twins. One, Mary, is a Death Eater. The other, Mel, was an Auror."

"Was?"

"They met one day in the streets and dueled. Killed a few muggles in the process, but in the end, Mary won out."

"Sister against sister?"

"Yes."

"What happened to Mary afterward?"

"Suicide."

Sirius cast his eyes away again. So much pain. It was hard to understand it all. It was hard to believe that so many past emotions, feelings, regrets, could be bundled up into so little a house. How was it that they kept themselves from drowning their miseries away? Sirius would be seeking the bottom of every bottle in an attempt to find solitude if he had suffered anything remotely similar to what these people were enduring. How did they do it?

Remus seemed to read his mind. He leaned over and slapped his friend's leg in both a friendly gesture, and to get his attention.

"We all have our own reasons for being here."

Sirius nodded, understanding. "Yeah, I know."

"Everyone faces loss. Faces pain. In the end, what matters is what you do to recover from it."

Thinking on those words, Sirius peered out of the window. There was still no signal from the church. Nothing.

"I'm scared."

Remus blinked and turned to meet Sirius' gaze, obviously very much taken aback. "What?"

Sirius sighed. He could feel the overwhelming knot he'd been swallowing for what seemed like decades suddenly rise into his throat. The bile threatened to spill over, but he knew, whatever happened, what he had to say needed to come out.

"I'm scared, Remus. I'm not strong like these people. I can't bear another loss in my life."

Remus nodded, listening intently.

"If Harry's gone...there's nothing for me. These people have a purpose that drives them. A right to wrong." He looked up, tears in his eyes. "I don't. All I have...is Harry. I can't lose that."

A gentle smile caressed the features of the life-weary man who sat across from Sirius. At that moment, he stood, patted his friend's shoulder, and quietly assured him that he wouldn't. With that being said, he turned to the crowd at hand and cleared his throat to get their attention.

"The signal has been lit," he proclaimed. "It's time to move out."

* * *

Lyrics: When I Go; by: Over the Rhine


	18. It Begins

* * *

****

Been a long road to follow;  
been there and gone tomorrow  
without saying goodbye to yesterday.  
Are the memories I hold still valid?  
Or have the tears deluded them?

* * *

The countrywide silence was all but unnerving to the small band of travelers who, on foot, pushed forward in protest, as much against the very elements as their fears that were urging them to return home. 

Merciless northern winds bit at any portion of the face or hands that went uncovered while knife-like grains of sand and frosty globules of ocean water added to the discomfort as they set foot upon the beach, happily providing an endless supply of irritated eyes, wet robes, cloaks, and masses upon masses of numbed extremities. Yet, remarkably, not one of them complained throughout the ostensibly infinite march. Their hearts and minds were driven on by a purpose the body couldn't begin to understand, and the minor discomforts mother nature threw at them would not hinder their intended path.

Overall, about twenty five Order members followed this self-isolating route. Men and women from different backgrounds, with different beliefs, with different ideals, all united under the roof of tragedy in hopes of opening a door of hope for those who were trapped within the iron grasp of their enemies. They were, in a sense, heading out to war. Their own personal battles and feelings were pushed aside, and all focus was centered on this one night where all the difference might me made. They were a unit unbreakable. Bound together by each owns silent guilt, and determined due to the overriding desire to atone for their faults and individual failures.

The Order was a union of witches and wizards, a brotherhood and sisterhood of people who all desired to stop the spread of evil and save the lives of those in danger of the Dark Forces and its minions. Tonight, it seemed as though they were a unit bound in grief. All heads were bowed against the commands of the elements, and all eyes were downcast, as if the screams of the wind and the roaring of the nearby ocean mimicked their own inner screams and private roars for reprieve.

How fitting, Sirius thought as he observed the sorry troupe for himself. Those who were once bound in hope and purpose are now bound in grief.

With a sorrowful sigh and the unwilling bow of his own head, Sirius too acquiesced to the demands of mother nature. He prayed that the asylum's base was not too far off, for the ghost of days long past was beginning to tickle at the back of his mind again. A heavy heart would soon be what bowed his sorry frame, and not the surrounding weather.

Pulling his cloak tighter about himself, Sirius warmed his body and heart with thoughts of having Harry back safe at home again.

* * *

Once they had reached the loving arms of concealing shadows, all twenty five Order members were able to relax by taking shelter within the crevices and boulders of the outlying stonework. True, the wind was still cold, and occasional showers from the violent waves of the North Atlantic were impossible to avoid, but here they were permitted to cast small fires so long as the angles did not cast shadows that would reveal their placement. Most didn't bother taking the risk, but a few extremely chilled rookies didn't bother considering such things. No one else could really blame them, and even a few seasoned veterans were grateful for the reassurance that warmth could still be felt in their fingers and toes. 

After five minutes of tucking themselves away into hiding, a fleet of wizards and witches landed just outside of their makeshift encampment. They were a straight faced bunch, not at all the hearty, typically warm countenances that usually graced a Phoenix member's face on a good night. Then again, very few of them had glistening smiles after the weather they had just endured. Once more, every last one of them knew that the night would not be getting any better from this point onward.

The twenty five were joined by a number of fifteen armed Aurors and five Unspeakables. They were to act as safeguards. Specialized training allowed these few individuals the proper tools and trades so that they might easily recognize even the slightest signs of ancient and dark magic.

Nothing was to be put past the mission tonight. The Keep held the Dark Forces' most valuable leader, and their most valuable prisoner. Failure was not an option, and risk was not a factor.

For a few moments, both parties stood in consideration of one another, as though measuring factors that could not be considered through speech and friendly hand gestures. Then, without warning, a tall, burly figure stepped out of the broom-equipped mass of people and extended a gnarled hand to Moody. The seasoned Auror help up an equally gnarled hand and shook it with a slight grimace. He, unlike the others, knew who this person was, but judging by Moody's expression, he was not too fond of the man.

"Dumbledore sent you, ay Millie?" the man asked.

"Aye," came the unexpected response. Despite the character's build, the voice was surprisingly feminine, if slightly deeper than normal for a woman. "Me and my team'll be assisting you and yours." There was a pause, as though this person called Millie were daring Moody to challenge the Order passed down from the high, mighty, and unquestionably wise Albus Dumbledore.

There wasn't one, leaving Millie quite pleased.

"All right. So that's that, then." She slapped her hands together and turned to the Order of the Phoenix. "Each of our riders, myself included, has a broom that will carry, on average, one passenger."

There was a sense of apprehension at the thought that some of the Phoenix' members thought of being left behind. After braving a hellish wait in a so-called summer home, and an equally unbearable walk down mother nature's trail of brutal lashings, none of them liked the idea of being made to stand outside in the continuous rain of unforgiving elements whilst their comrades fought valiantly against Voldemort.

"But never fear," the person named Millie continued. "Some of our men and women are willing to make second trips. You will all get the battle you've so desperately been waiting for."

A hand raised from the back of the group. All eyes turned to Dedalius Diggle, and all agitated minds prepared themselves for the voicing of a ridiculous question, yet he amazed them all when his mouth was opened.

"If that's the case, then what are we going to do if we find more prisoners than we can carry?"

Millie nodded, pleased with this man's aforethought.

"Never fear, good sir. We have an owl waiting at the top of the castle who will come at the bidding of out whistles. We will simply transfer the message from him to the Ministry and they will meet us, where needed, with more passenger-allowing brooms. Satisfied?"

More than one head nodded.

"All right, lets get moving."

* * *

This will hopefully start moving faster in the next couple of chapters. I need to devise a mock floor plan for the castle if I'm to know where my guys are going. (sheepish grin)  
**Don't forget to review!**

Lyrics: "Gravity" by Maaya Sakamoto  
from the "Wolf's Rain" soundtrack.


	19. Give Me Strength

_I suppose a portkey would have been smarter than the owl. I may improvise that in as a substitute later on._

_We'll see. As of now I'm winging this story about one hundred and twenty percent._

_Also, I'm sorry about the error with Black and Tonks. I sort of forgot they were cousins. (blush)_

_**

* * *

Give me strength to find the road that's lost in me; **_

_**and give me time to heal and build myself a dream;**_

_**and give me eyes to see the world surrounding me,**_

_**and give me strength to be only me.**_

_**

* * *

**_Sirius' fingers choked the handle of his wand. Impenetrable darkness mocked his eyesight, refusing to reveal anything. The only sensation he was aware of was the restricting of his own throat and chest. Beads of sweat dripped menacingly into his straining eyes, causing him to blink back the betraying sting while hindering his eyesight even further. His breathing was havocked, yet it went unnoticed only because his teammates inhaled and exhaled in a similarly strained matter. The air was cold and damp, causing lungs to scream silently, joining in with the already well harmonized chorus of the most primitive of the senses. 

Give me strength to find the road that's lost in me;

"Are we waiting for a signal?" Sirius asked in a voice very unlike himself. There was a long pause before anyone dared to answer. They knew the man's patience were wearing thin, as were their own, but it was nevertheless a key virtue they were all going to need to apply if any of them wanted to make it through this night alive.

"We're waiting for Millie's team to take up the lead."

Sirius grit his teeth, casting his gaze out into the ever darkening corridor. They did not dare illuminate their wands for fear of exposure, but at the same time it wouldn't make much sense if they all foolishly pitched themselves down an open shaft or a flight of stairs.

"What are _they _waiting for?"

An exasperated sigh came from their team leader, Allen.

"I don't know, I'm not a mind reader Mr. Black."

Sirius sighed in exasperation. "You're telling me we didn't bring one?"

Remus shot his friend a menacing glare, warning him to be silent. Sirius complied with the tacit demand, though not happily. His nerves were near shot. They were so close to Harry, but they weren't doing anything about it! When were they going to move?

As if someone had heard his heartfelt prayers, Allen raised a hand.

"We're taking the first flight down," he reported to the team behind him. It consisted of eight wizards, himself, Sirius, and Remus among them. With them also was Tonks, Diggle, and three from Millie's team. One, Linford Deitweiler, a tall male red head who might have been a long lost Weasley, a short blonde female known to them only as Margo, and then Marcus Holmes, a medium sized black man who had a clean shaven head, a charming smile, and a glitter in his eyes to match. "Stick to the left and we should find a clear path to the lowest floor where they're keeping the prisoners."

"What are we doing after that?" Remus asked, seeming disappointed that they were acting strictly as rescue and reconnaissance.

"Getting them out of here."

There was a few seconds pause in which each in turn took this information into account. They had the easy part. Search and rescue. Get the people out of here before the Dark Forces realized what was going on. Then, the moment was swiftly interrupted by their troupe leader's voice. "Let's go."

'Hang on Harry,' Sirius spoke within the depths of his screaming head. 'I'm coming.'

* * *

"They're not coming," said the same melodramatic voice time and time again. It was like clockwork. Every few minutes, that three word statement was all the man had to say. All day, everyday, and well into the night. "They're not coming." 

"Would you shut up?" Harry growled, glaring angrily at the thinning character. The only thing in a worse state than his body was his mind. Voldemort has taken special efforts to damage the minds of a vast number of his prisoners. Harry had been spared, though for reasons he wasn't sure were much better.

Looking up at nothing, he wondered suddenly if the crazy wizard he shared his cell with was right. How could they be coming? Sirius and Remus has assuredly gotten his message. The telepathic connection had ended abruptly, yes, but they'd received the more vital information.

But could they get here? Or even worse, would they get here and be too late.

Harry sighed, hitting his head on the cell wall in frustration. So many questions, and not one single answer.

"They're not coming."

* * *

"Do we know exactly where we're going?" came a huffy voice from the back of the formation. All eyes turned on Diggle with a severe sense of loathing. This was only the fifth time he'd asked the same damn question. 

"No, we're wandering about aimlessly," snapped Margo. "We thought we might make better time that way."

"Where are the others?" Remus asked, not wanting this quarrel to escalate. The last thing they needed was to get captured because a few of their teammates felt a little argumentative.

Allen breathed a sigh and invoked a very handy locating spell. An illuminated square appeared just above his elevated want tip, showing the schematics of the keep with brilliant vibrancy. All over, bright orange dots showed the exact placement of their fellow counterparts in the mission. Moody and Millie's operations were moving toward the middle floor where surveillance had shown a large number of Death Eaters gathering for a ritual.

A second team, ordered by Moody before entering the Keep, was just showing up on the outskirts of the castle. Some were remaining within flying distance in case of a necessary emergency escape, but others were advancing inside through random openings that had been found around the castle area. Teams of one and two were slipping past cracks that the inhabitants of this castle didn't even know existed. To the untrained eye, this battle was already won.

But none on this team were fools, and not one eye was not in tune with the procedures and dangers involved. They knew even now that there was a great deal of risk involved. The night was still far, far from over.

"Right," Sirius said, nodding his head, happy with the confirmation of their placement, and that of the others. "Let's keep moving."

* * *

"Hold," Millie demanded. Her voice, even in a whisper, cut the stillness of the night as sharply as any knife would slice through a loaf of bread. All things stopped when she spoke, for no one would take the chance to disrespect this woman. Her word was law, and her law was not to be broken. All orders came from her, and no one was to go back on them lest Millie said otherwise. 

Moody was the only one who didn't think this way, and he carelessly showed it in his actions.

As Millie repeated her order, Moody moved on. He didn't mean it as a disrespect, not that he would have cared anyway, but for reasons that could not be explained. Moody felt that something was wrong.

Rituals made noise. Not rough and noticeable, but there was usually chanting to be heard. Low, guttural choruses from the mindless followers of the dark priest who was bringing forth the malevolency typically followed as well. But here there was nothing, and Moody could sense in the pit of his stomach that something was definitely wrong.

"Alastor! Damn it! Get back here!"

Moody continued to ignore her. He pushed onward, urging his team to follow. They did so, but not happily. Yet, as Moody, inched forward and tapped the entry door, he realized too fast and too late the mistake they had made. Surveillance had been correct, but in their haste they had jumped to conclusions and depended on assumptions instead of facts.

There _were_ Death Eaters in the courtyard, but they weren't performing a ritual.

They were waiting for the Order.

* * *

_Fin a la chapter nineteen. Sorry it has to end here...but I'm kinda tired. (jumps into bed and dreams of her school burning to the ground)  
Lyrics: "Give me Strength" by Over the Rhine_


	20. This Could Just Be the End

Alas, I find that I've secured myself into a very tight corner. Stupid story.

Thank you for the review, Dianne. (grins) I do hope you find your kitty soon.

* * *

**_Falling fast and falling free,  
you look to find a friend.  
Falling fast and falling free,  
this could just be the end._**

* * *

Of all the things that could have happened next, Sirius never expected that which really did come to occur. It was as if a bomb had exploded above their heads, and for a moment he actually believed one had. The whole center of the castle rocked and quaked violently. Screams were heard from numerous flights up and down throughout the keep, and the ever present perpetual darkness only added to the fears of those who were helplessly groping about in search of things and people. If a war had broken out between the Ministry and the Dark Forces, Sirius felt compelled to believe that the only thing that separated him from the "front line" was a ceiling and a few flights of stairs. 

Not enough to be comfortable with.

"What's going on?" asked Diggle, his wide eyes darting around in an obvious fit of paranoia. Beads of sweat glistened off of his face in the little bit of light they had, dripping from his temples and upper lip. Allen seemed to be in a similar state in appearance, but he did well to keep his head.

"We've been misinformed," Allen spoke after a few seconds of deceptive silence. "They were expecting us."

Sirius felt his heart leap into his throat. "Expecting us?" he croaked. "What does that mean?"

"That means...that we've been lead into a trap."

"By whom?"

"Does it really matter now?" Allen snapped.

"I would think that it does," came Diggle's high pitched squeak from somewhere in the back. Allen afforded the man a glare, but did not dignify the comment with a response. Instead, he turned to Sirius, Remus, and Tonks.

"I'm entrusting you two with continuing our party's mission," he whispered so that only they could hear. "Our team is going to need back up, and my people are the only ones who can reach them in time."

"Just Remus and I?" came Sirius, frowning slightly.

"No. Tonks and Diggle will be going with you. The Order keeps to it's own and so will the Squad."

"What happens when we find our people?" Remus asked.

"Get them out. Stick to the procedure we went over. If you meet up with anyone claiming to be from the Ministry or the Squad, ask for I.D. If they don't have it, then don't hesitate."

"Hesitate to what, exactly?"

Allen didn't answer. In a silent hand code that neither Remus nor Sirius were familiar with, he gathered the attention of the Phoenix Squadron and together as one they left for the upper floors to meet the battle head on, leaving Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and Diggle to fend for themselves.

Diggle turned to face the others with a questioning expression. "So...what are we doing?"

* * *

"What the hell is going on out there?" someone from the opposite cell room cried. Harry's own face was pressed between the bars of his cell. He strained to hear, see, or sense anything that was going on above their heads. 

"Who knows?" came a reply from somewhere down the column. "They're probably blowing the castle."

"With us in it?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"After all the trouble they went through to capture us, they're just going to kill us?"

"Why not?"

Sighing, Harry shook his head. Obviously spirits were easier to break then bones in these circumstances.

"Hey, kid!" whispered a voice. Harry looked up. He'd never told anyone down here who he was, and since that was the only real title he had down here, he just simply assumed that 'kid' always meant him.

"Yeah?" Harry answered the unknown voice.

"You look kind of hopeful. You think the Ministry is coming for us? Do you think they're here?"

"Could be, I guess."

There was a pause. This person seemed to be considering Harry very seriously.

"Is there someone out there looking for you?"

Harry frowned and peered in the direction of the voice. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing. It's just that...you've always been so optimistic throughout this ordeal. You have hope that someone out there is looking for you?"

A grin came across Harry's face, not that the speaker could see it. "I know someone out there's looking for me."

"Parents?"

"No." He paused, grinning slightly after another explosion had gone off. "My godfather."

* * *

Now reduced to a team of four, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and Diggle were literally jumping flights of stairs. They knew where they were headed, the problem was simply getting their unnoticed. 

Remus and Tonks were in the lead, Diggle was in the middle and Sirius took up the position of rear guard as they reached a long, windowless corridor. The only thing they had to guide them was the light of their own wands (they'd forsake groping about in the darkness long ago), and even that was slowing them down. Every moving shadow made them weary of the fact that they were not alone in this castle, and one wrong turn could lead them into a roomful of powerful Death Eaters, or even to Voldemort himself.

It wasn't a risk they could afford with so much hanging in the balance. Their job was to get the prisoners and get out. The war was to be fought by others tonight, not by them.

Fate, however, enjoyed making things difficult for those who already had it hard.

As Tonks and Remus careened around a corner, they narrowly avoided getting taken out by a slew of jinxes and curses that were flung at them from the opposite side of the corridor. Diggle took the full blunt of the blow and went down, giving Sirius enough time to dive for adequate cover, but not enough to save his teammate from full paralysis.

"SIRIUS!" he heard his friends calling from the hall ahead.

Brushing himself off, Sirius coughed and looked around. "I'm all right!" he reassured them, though he couldn't say the same for Diggle.

He didn't have time to worry though. Another onslaught of magical attacks flew at them from the corridor, and five Death Eaters stormed in from the shadows, robed, masked, and completely unidentifiable.

"Damn it," hissed Sirius as he tucked his form up tight into a corner to avoid being blasted away by no more than three fatal curses. He saw one fall at Remus' wand and took hope, but at the same time Tonks went flying into the wall behind them, leaving Remus alone with odds that were already not good.

Seeing the advantage, the Death Eaters were not below taking it. With raised wands, all focused on the wizard in front of them.

Sirius watched in horror as he was about to lose his best friend.

* * *

Another explosion rocked the cell, causing part of the ceiling to cave. Supports fell, and with them, half of the cell walls. Harry, one among the multitudes that now found themselves circumstantially, if not conveniently freed, took that advantage up in full. Pulling some from rubble, and busting the doors of others still trapped in confinement, the prisoners decided to make a run for it. Whatever was happening up above their heads was certainly a more desirable fate then being left for dead in the dungeons of a castle.

* * *

"REMUS!" Sirius screamed, partially hoping that it would deter the attention of some of the attacking Death Eaters toward him instead of his companion. It worked, but only for a moment. Smiles lengthened as they realized who it was that called out from the shadows, and mocking laughter echoed from the dark depths of masks that concealed the identities of their assailants. 

"Remus! Remus!" came a high pitched laugh, scornfully mimicking the fear in Sirius' heart. "Poor Black. All the people he loved...blown away by that which he most hated."

"Bastards!" The man spat, foolishly standing and revealing himself to them.

"Sirius stay where you are!" Remus warned, but it was of no use. He knew his friend wasn't listening. "Sirius!"

"Oh, this is too beautiful," said a female voice. "I almost feel bad that we don't have any music playing. After all...this is..._goodbye!_"

A wave of green light exploded from the tip of a wand, and both men steeled themselves for an end that they were not ready to face. But at that time, a brilliant flash of orange erupted from another side of the corridor, taking out the firing wizard and somehow stopping his spell from ever reaching his target.

Remus was blown back into the wall at the sheer force of the spell, and Sirius was forced to dive out of the way to avoid being hit. In doing so, however, his head collided with the wall, and everything around him went black. At that point, Sirius knew no more.

* * *

Oh dear, what's happening here? Hey, that rhymed. Anyway, Fin ala chapter twenty. Twenty! Holy cow!  
Please don't forget to review. (smiles cheesily)

Lyrics: "Harvest Breed" by Nick Drake.


	21. Fear

Against my better judgment, I'm going to go ahead and finish this story. After this I may possibly retire from the HP department. Don't quote me on this. I'm entertaining another story idea, but as of right now I'm so tired of Harry Potter I could barf, and none of the other characters are very appealing right now either. Sorry guys. Hope these last few chapters are a satisfactory clean up for the mess I've made.

* * *

I'm not supposed to be scared of anything  
but I don't know where I am.  
I wish that I could move, but I'm exhausted  
and nobody understands how I feel.

* * *

At first he wasn't quite sure what had happened. All he knew was the dark and the pain, or the unnerving lack thereof.

The force of the spell blast had sent him skidding across the floor some twenty feet from where he had originally stood. He saw a window and some doors that he didn't recognize, and for a moment he entertained the idea of having been hurled through a wall.

But there was very little debris, and Sirius could see the corridor as clearly as he had before the skirmish had occurred, save for the enormous floating balls of dust and bits of wall that hung from the frames of the house.

"Remus?" he called into the darkness. Coughing, Sirius pulled himself quickly to his feet. "Remus!" he yelled again.

No answer.

Groping about, the wizard was able to find his wand, and on all fours began to crawl through the dust clouds, realizing only too late that he should have waited for his eyes soon began to sting and water from the irritating particles.

His hand found a foot not a few moments after, and he already felt panic well up within him as the formation of a limp and bloody figure became known to his eyes.

"Remus?"

All of a sudden, the body flipped from its side to its back, and Sirius jumped in spite of himself, for the motion had been so abrupt that he had to wonder if Remus were being controlled from another wizards' wand.

Looking past the dying fog of dust, he found a familiar face working frantically to find a pulse on the man lying on the ground.

"Tonks?" He asked, coughing again against the dust. "Is he...?"

She shook her head, inspecting a deep incision on Remus' brow. "No, but he's in pretty bad condition. We need to get him out of here."

"But..."

She raised a glowering set of eyes in Sirius' direction. He shrunk back instantly, recognizing the danger their friend was in, but his mind inadvertently traveled back to his godson who was undoubtedly in the midst of all of this somewhere.

"I can't abandon him now, Tonks," he begged with saddened eyes. "We're so close."

The pink haired woman glanced sadly to the man in her arms. Sighing, she nodded her head. Allowing Sirius, against her better judgment, to go through with the rest of this mission alone. Tonks knew that she really had no power to stop this man anyway. He was determined, and though she barely knew her cousin that well these days, she knew better than to think that the stubbornness of the Black lineage had over passed him.

"Good luck to you, Sirius."

Sirius smiled and nodded. "And to you." He paused to consider his friend, then sighed. "Take care of him."

"Always." Tonks grinned.

With that, he disappeared into the dispersing cloud of debris.

* * *

For the first time since he'd left the Dursley's, Harry marveled at his personal freedom once again. The prisoners who had survived the collapse of the basements had found the lock boxes where their wands had been kept, and with some magical intervention they had been able to access them and flee into the deteriorating halls of the keep. Everyone took off in their own preferred way, wishing the others luck in their escape. 

Harry was not surprised to find himself alone in his endeavor to flee. His instincts, however, were guiding him in a different direction. He wasn't looking for a way out, just some faces that he knew he could trust, team up with, and hopefully assist in any way possible. Chances were that he knew this castle better than many of the Order members, and with him they could find an escape route easily and without enemy interference.

When Harry took the nearest hall alone, he knew that alertness was his key factor to survival. He would have to keep to the shadows for as long as possible. Interference was not a luxury he could avoid. He needed to get out of this castle. Sirius had to be beside himself with worry at this point, and Harry wasn't sure he wanted to imagine what his godfather might do in such a fit of desperation.

He couldn't take the chance of gambling his life away if others were dependant on him.

* * *

The corridors grew uneasily silent as Sirius progressed down through the labyrinth of stone walls and aged tapestries. Each corner held unfriendly shadows and possible obstacles. One wrong move and he could easily be taken unaware, carted off without a single witness and left for dead in some godforsaken hold of the enemy. 

Gritting his teeth against the imminent frustration, Sirius urged himself forward. Each echoing footstep caused his heart to skip a beat, and every time he moved to fast he suspected his shadow as the culprit that breathed down his neck.

Paranoia would soon set in if he didn't find light or catch sight of a face that wasn't his own.

The howling wind outside was reduced to a mere echoing whisper within the stony walls of the keep, communicating heatedly with the chest-tightening trepidation that threatened to overpower his will and send him hurtling out of the castle in a fit of terror. Fear was the key factor Sirius had never been able to beat throughout his life. The only thing that ended up defeating his fear was a more overpowering fear. Now, the only thing that overpowered his fear of this keep and all that resided in it, was the fear of never again seeing his godson.

With his jaw stiffened against the inner chill of his body, Sirius pressed on. Fearful, but determined.

Nothing would keep him away any more.

* * *

_  
**Lyrics: **"Changes" by Three Doors Down_


	22. A Temporary Reunion

Wow, everyone. Thanks for all the splendid reviews! (hugs everyone) I'll see what I can do for you all, okay? Take care and enjoy the new-coming warm weather.

* * *

****

If I could change, I would;  
take back the pain, I would;  
retrace every wrong move that I made, I would.  
If I could  
stand up and take the blame, I would;  
if I could take all the shame to the grave,  
I would.

* * *

Moody growled while fending off three death eaters at once. Millie, a few yards away, didn't fair too much better. She had, little by little, been eased into a corner without any hope of escape save for the four death eaters that encircled her. None of these witches and wizards were overly skilled, but in large groups they were just as dangerous as one of the higher up circle members. 

The area in which the two sides fought was surprisingly large enough to hold them all, but as spells were deflected and damages were done, there were many who took to fleeing. Not out of fear of Voldemort's forces, but fear that the central structure of the keep might come crashing down upon their heads.

As Moody peered upward, he realized that such a possibility may occur..

* * *

No matter where Sirius turned, every step seemed to take him deeper into impenetrable darkness. Even with his wand, who's light only reached out about six inches in either direction, Sirius found himself unable to see anything. Also, for some reason, streams of dirt seemed to be falling from the walls and ceiling whenever an explosion rocked the structure. 

He suddenly didn't feel too bad about the initial state of Grimmauld Place when he had opened it in it's own filthy condition some two years ago.

Coughing and muttering under his own breath, Sirius pressed forward. Determination outweighed his understanding of the present situation, which was probably for the best, for anyone with an ounce of consideration toward the threatening tremors of the castle would have realized that the fortress was coming down at the center very soon.

* * *

Between the darkness and the lack of pure air to breath, Harry wasn't sure if he would make it out of the keep at all. Either he would be captured again or he would suffocate in these corridors, neither of which sounded too pleasant to him. 

Coughing as another stream of dust shot out of the ceiling onto his scuttling form, Harry continued on uncertain of whether he was going the right way or unintentionally backtracking. Anything was better then where he was now though, he was certain about that much.

Another tremor rocked the castle down to its very foundation, and Harry froze, preparing himself to be crushed under thousands of tons of stone. If someone could actually prepare themselves for such an event. With his eyes pressed tightly together, he waited to feel his bones snap and his head smash against the floor and the ceiling as they merged, but nothing happened.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry opened his eyes, but found a much more urgent matter on his hands.

Someone was up ahead of him, and drawing closer.

* * *

With the constant groaning of stone and wood all about him, Sirius hesitated going forward. He dimmed his wand light slightly and inched forward, uncertain of what awaited him over the next few moments. 

Throwing caution to the wind, he called out. Anything was better than this suffocating darkness.

"Hello!"

There was a sudden scuttling up ahead, and Sirius readied his wand for the attack.

"Who's there?"

Again, no answer. But then again, Sirius hadn't really been expecting one.

"I'll have you know that I am armed." A pause. Nothing still. "I won't hurt you, I just need to know where we are. I'm...I'm looking for someone."

He waited, listening to the echo of his own voice which was noticeably distorted due to the constant inhalation of dust and other airborne particles. Still, no one answered, and he readied himself for the attack.

"I'm only going to say this one more time. I WON'T HURT YOU. I'm just looking for someone. I don't care who you are. If you help me, I'll let you go."

Nothing.

Sirius grit his teeth and took one step forward.

"Damn it. Will you just "

Suddenly, a bright display of orange shot out at him, clipping him in the shoulder and sending him into the nearest wall which partially disintegrated against his weight.

Sirius' patience had expired at that exact moment. Standing with a very severe expression upon his face, he flicked his wand in the general direction of the spell caster and uttered a curse of his own, catching his assailant full in the stomach with a bright yellow jet of light that would surely put him at the advantage.

When the person cried out in pain, Sirius huffed proudly and moved forward.

"Lumos Maxima!" came a scratchy voice, and suddenly the entire corridor was illuminated. Sirius found himself momentarily blinded and held up his hands to keep the searing pain out of his already bruised head.

"I don't know who you are," the person started, "but I don't care. I just want out of here. I need to find someone."

Sirius grinned and shook his head in disbelief.

"Then it seems we're in a similar state, don't you think?" He asked, his hands still held up to his eyes. "Why don't we work together? If you've been here long you know the way around better than I do. I'm trying to find the prisoner's chamber. I need to get someone out of there."

There was a moment's pause, as though the person were considering this.

"The Prisoners' Chambers collapsed in the last major explosion. Those who survived were able to escape."

These words chilled Sirius' heart, but he bit his lip. He let his hands fall at long last, though his eyes were still closed against the bright light.

"Can you tell me if a certain person escaped. I'm looking for him."

He sensed an odd expression from the person he was conversing with, but Sirius wasn't willing to open his eyes just yet. The light was still far too bright.

"We weren't really on fist name basis' with each other...but I'll tell you if I can."

"Harry Potter was with you, was he not?"

A pause.

"Was he?"

"Yes."

"Did he make it out?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because he's...I'm his..."

"Harry's parents are dead."

A lump arose in Sirius' throat. "I know that. I'm his godfather."

There was an extra long pause in which the person seemed to be considering this. The light died down to a bearable luminosity, and Sirius was able to open his eyes.

"Took you long enough," came a smile from a green eyed young man that Sirius knew all too well.

No words escaped the man's mouth. He stood there, dumbfounded, for longer than was wise. The castle rocked a few more times before a low groaning echoed throughout the structure.

"Harry?"

But all of a sudden, the ceiling caved in between them, and the light from both of their wands was extinguished in an avalanche of stone and other debris.

* * *

I am the Cliffhanger goddess. (grins evilly)

**Lyrics:** "Easier to Run" by Linkin Park


	23. The Search

****

So when will it end?  
So when, when will we meet my friend?

* * *

For what appeared as eons unbounded, those beyond the walls of the condemned keep sat helpless amidst the relentless elements who had not ceased since the Order and the Squadron's march some hours before. Most were happy, for their miserable plight now seemed quite favorable compared to those who were buried in the rubble of MacMurphy's stronghold. 

Even amidst the rain and wind, clouds of smoke and dust reached toward the sky like ethereal hands presenting a dire sense of irony; foreshadowing the fates of all those who had been well and alive inside only minutes before.

Among the confused and helpless multitude was Arthur Weasley. Despite the frigidity of the ocean air, tears of sweat easily found paths down his temples, upper lip, and brow. Tense nerves caused his stiffened jaw to chatter, creating a short but brutal tempo that was almost in perfect unison with his heartbeat. Arthur knew the grave importance of this mission as well as all of the others there that night. He, however, had a much deeper connection with some of the prisoners being held inside. Coworkers were among those they could now only assume to be lost. Distant relations, and at least one dear family friend for sure.

Others newly included among the huddled collection of onlookers were the rescued Remus Lupin and Nymphandora Tonks, who had made their way out just as the structure began to tremor for the last time. They too watched in horror as the walls of the keep collapsed, burying their hopes and their friends all within a few moments time.

The image itself was nothing short of paradoxical. What was once a strong edifice now lay before them as nothing more than a pile of rubble. Only the roar of the ocean could be heard as it lapped against the cliff walls, for the rest of those waiting below, if not the world, was idly holding its breath in hopes that somehow those who were trapped within the tons of rubble would miraculously dig through the shattered remains and greet them with a soot covered grin and an uncomfortable laugh for all of the worry they had caused those below.

But, as always, the comfort of hope was burned away with the sting of tears. Reality dawned like a bloody sunrise, blinding the eyes and the hearts with a lethal injection of apprehension and helplessness. All they could do was stare and wait for help to come.

* * *

The cleanup was horrible. It took hours just to clear the first layer of rubble, and every rock that was dropped into the ocean carried with it an ounce of faith from every single rescue worker. Blood stained stones eventually paved the way to unrecognizable faces and all but flattened bodies where the scavenging parasites were already feasting; upon innocent victim and criminal alike. There was no prejudice between the two. The blessed received the same fate as the damned, and in the end all that could be done was to sweep it away and continue on. There was no justification, for none could be given. 

Dawn had broken only an hour after the horrible incident at the keep, but the small number of those who had been rescued refused to leave until all of their comrades had been found. Regardless of their condition. Among them was undoubtedly Remus Lupin. His back was bruised and his limbs almost unusable. At least three vertebras in his spine were in need of realignment. No one wanted to do it though in fear of making the problem irreversible. So, in a stubborn state that might have rivaled that of Sirius Black, he lay on a stretcher and waited the news of someone, anyone. Tonks checked back with him every few minutes. She was helping with the rescue process as best she could, but since she was only a metamorphimagus, and not an animagus, there was only so much she could do.

Location charms were being placed all over the keep in hopes of the spells locking onto the life signs of an individual trapped below the rocks. But they were always weak, and by the time rescue efforts finally reached them there was nothing that could be done save to throw a sheet over the corpse and continue on.

"This is going to take longer than we anticipated," said RO leader Roy Ochoa. He wiped his brow with a white sleeved jacket and sighed. His body was tired, but his mind was exhausted. The past few hours had been emotionally draining and scarring for all of them. No one knew when they would suddenly lift a bit of rubble and unmask a familiar face. They were emotionally unprepared for this, and the situation wasn't getting any better.

"What's going on, exactly?" asked a very formal looking young wizard. Roy, who did not have the patience to deal with a snot nosed brat from some office based pecking order, spat at the ground by the boy's feet and met his challenging glare with one of equal stamina.

"There's been a cave in," Roy stated earnestly, never losing his eye contact.

The kid immediately rolled his eyes in a very elementary fashion, telling Roy that he was not only snooty, but new and inexperienced. More trouble under Roy's already burdened belt.

"I can _see_ that. What's the report?"

Roy spat again. "There is no report."

The boy chuckled in an odd manner that was very much forced. He shook his head and groaned as though he were talking to someone who didn't know how to do a job that he himself so _obviously _understood.

"Sir, there's _always_ a report."

Again, Roy spat. This time, however, he hit the young man's shoes instead of the ground. He didn't bother to apologize either.

"No. There isn't." Roy walked away, leaving the kid to stare angrily at his now not so new suede shoes. When the rookie agent was far enough away that Roy no longer believed him to be a problem, he addressed their unit's construction team and asked them if there was any sense in continuing to dig through this collapsed mausoleum.

"The collapse isn't complete," reported one elderly chap who appeared as though he should have retired around the nineteenth century. His form was hunched with every square inch of skin wrinkled. If there was any hair on his head, it was microscopic, save for that which popped out now again from his ears. Roy was often amazed the man could hear at all. Yanni Fletcher was his name, and many bets were often made about his age. Regardless, he was good at his job, and despite the man's shortcomings Roy was almost always appreciative of the man's work.

Tonight was one of those nights.

"What do you mean?" Roy frowned and began digging for a cigar in his coat pocket. Or a flask of whiskey. Whichever came first.

"There's a basement structure underground. The collapse only covered part of it. The upper floors all fell in but the basement is pretty secure. We could have survivors down there."

"We _could_?"

Yanni pushed his old geezer glasses up the bridge of his nose a bit and nodded. "Yes. If they were anywhere between the first and third floor, there's a very good chance that those who fell survived their fall, and weren't crushed to death afterward."

Roy nodded. This was some good news. The team needed that.

"How much time do we have to get to them?"

This question was not for Yanni, but Zayara, the MT Chief on the sight. She was only in her twenties, but knew more about magic and medicine than almost all of the shamans and doctors at Mungo's. If there was anyone in the Magical Medical Tech career that Roy ever trusted more than Zayara, he or she wasn't employed with them yet.

"Well there are a few factors that may have taken any survivors out if the collapse or the fall itself did not."

"And those factors are?"

"Smoke inhalation. Suffocation. Drowning. Panic or nervous attacks. It's a long list, sir."

Roy sighed. "What are our odds, Chief?"

Zayara shrugged and cast a reflexive glance over her shoulder toward the keep, as if looking for some divine sign of hope or approval.

"Not good, Roy."

He sighed and peered out over at the keep once more. Thunder rolled over the ocean, and a cool wind was picking up once more. They'd be digging in the rain soon, most likely to have their second wave of hope turn into a flood of devastation.

"Damn."

* * *

The dust was far from settled, and since there was most likely no ventilation in the chamber he now found himself in, Harry believed that he was now at last going to meet his match. Not from Voldemort, not from a Death Eater, but from a lack of oxygen. It was slightly disappointing. He had almost gotten used to the idea of going out in a blaze of glory. Suddenly, a quiet death like this didn't please him. He wanted to survive this. He had to. Besides, he hadn't been able to see Sirius yet. 

Sirius?

Harry's eyes shot open, and with mounting effort he convinced his head to rotate around the room just enough to give him a good idea of what was going on. He saw a splinter of wood extending from the ceiling to the floor, and jammed underneath it was his left shin. Blood was seeping from the dense wound in his leg, but strangely enough he couldn't feel it!

Slightly ill at ease, Harry began to realize that he couldn't feel much of anything. His injured leg, his back, his arms. The only thing that seemed connected to him anymore was his neck and head, and even then he wasn't so sure. He was able to move his upper extremities with some difficulty, but the fact that he could not feel them was mortifying.

Coughing, Harry peered around once more. He couldn't reach his wand, and therefore could not provide himself with an adequate light source. His only other option was to call out with his already choked voice.

"Sirius?"

Harry waited a few moments, not completely surprised that there was no immediate response.

"Sirius, are you okay?"

Still nothing. 'He might still be unconscious', Harry thought. But then again, it could have been something else.

Knowing it wasn't wise but not really caring, Harry propped his paralyzed carcass up on his elbows and forced his head to hold itself while looking around the room. On the far side he made out the dense figure of what looked like a large dog.

Sirius had probably transformed in the fall to make himself smaller and less susceptible to injury. Unfortunately, that hadn't stopped gravity pulling him to the ground, or from the sudden contact with the ground knocking him senseless for the past few hours.

Sighing, Harry collapsed back to the floor. At least his godfather was all right for now. But the smoke and airborne debris wasn't lessening. If something wasn't opened up soon, they would suffocate before they were ever found.

That was, if anyone was even looking for them.

**

* * *

Lyrics:**_ "Strangers" by Raj Ramayya_

**CD: **_Wolf's Rain OST 1_


	24. It Isn't Fair

**Nobody said it was easy  
It's such a shame for us to part.  
Nobody said it was easy,  
No one ever said it would be this hard.  
Oh, take me back to the start.**

Coldplay; "The Scientist"

* * *

The light that had been provided to the Rescue Operatives during the first few hours of what most considered "humane morning hours" had very swiftly been drowned out by a new wave of torrential rain and screaming winds. The violent downpour rivaled that of the first storm, which had maliciously stewed the night before the catastrophe at hand and made the already arduous task of rescue and recovery an affair of recondite proportions. Cold water pellets struck the backsides of the laborers like the whips of cattle drivers, ironically pressing the factor of urgency more effectively than any other facet that they were aware of at the present time. If that was not enough, cold, North Atlantic winds found enough to lead razor sharp bits of sand and microscopic debris to castigate the already brutalized salvagers by scratching against charred and bruised flesh; stinging red and swollen, even tired eyes; and sticking to already dry throats and clogged nostrils. Hot sweat mingled with chilled water, and the man who was in the best condition was the one who was thoroughly convinced that he was going to die before the day was through. 

Had anyone been even slightly aware of the few buried survivors that lie trapped in the basement, they may have grumbled less about their conditions and dug a bit faster. But eventually, as is always the case, the imperfections that categorize people as humans began to settle in. Efforts became just as foul as moods, and by the time the afternoon had come, most were more than willing to call it quits and head home to a hot meal and a warm, decent bed. Yet there were still some who were driven by far more than the desire to be a hero. They were eventually joined by replacements, both workers and volunteers alike. Among them was the brobdingnagian Rubeus Hagrid. As he and the other newcomers realized more and more the truth beyond the bedlam before them, the eagerness to help and the joy of making a much needed difference was quickly overcome by trepidation and guilt. After a speedy introduction by RO leader Roy Ochoa, the volunteers were sent on their way to find where they were needed most. Hagrid's size and unquestionable strength lead him at first to the rubble heap, but when Yanni took one look at the man he sent him to work in the Med-tents.

"His enormous size may cause what's left to collapse on possible survivors in the basement and lower levels," was Yanni's reasoning. Any who were working through the sight could do nothing, save begrudgingly accept the elderly man's decision. Nevertheless, it was disheartening. It didn't take a genius to understand the enormous benefit Hagrid's fortitude would have allowed for them, but at the same time no one could deny the dangers that would be implicated by having such a heavy burden walk back and forth against the already feeble structural remains.

As dismayed as his peers, Hagrid trudged solemnly from the ruins to the shabby rows of brown and tattered tens on the bay side. There, medical workers along with MT chief Zayara Mondragon put him to work moving injured people from one tent to another while placing the dead on the beach and out of sight in hopes of continuing what little bit of hope that still remained among the volunteer workers and the employed rescuers. As they worked through the rubble, Hagrid picked through the dead. He looked for faces of old friends but found none. All were lifeless and estranged to the weary giant, which might have been for the better, but what this truly meant for those still lost, Hagrid wasn't sure. The number of the dead outweighed the number of the living, and Hagrid knew enough of math to understand that the odds were not in the favor of those still trapped below. With a weight heavier than that of all the dead in his heart, Hagrid pressed on, uncertain of what else there truly was for him to do.

Others, however, were not so heavily burdened by the matters at hand. The young intern-like associate that Roy Ochoa had been working so hard to avoid was one of them. With a face as blank as the stones they dug through, and a heart as cold as the winds that bit at face and extremities alike, the young wizard known to Roy only as "The Kid" paced up at down the scene with more of a countenance filled with an unnerving amount of interest, instead of concern. Questions like "Can I help with that?" or "Is there anything that needs to be done here?" were apparently not in the young man's vocabulary. Instead, he would poke into important conversations and ask "Is this this best way to approach the situation?" or "Isn't the ratio for an operation like this supposed to be at least twenty to one?" It took all the strength Roy had to keep from running round and punching the kid square in the face.

"Are you all right?" asked Zayara as Roy stormed through one of the heavier laden Med tents with a frown set so deep that it seemed chiseled there by Father Time himself. When nothing but a snarl erupted from Roy's angled lips, Zayara found herself chuckling. "The Kid, again?"

Nodding, Roy turned his gaze over his shoulder in fear that their newest problem was pursuing him. So far, so good.

"How are these guys doing?" Roy asked after taking a few minutes to calm down. Zayara shook her head, a somber expression upon her tired face. "That good, I see."

"How much longer are we going to be here, Roy?"

The man sighed, offering no more comfort than a simple shrug. It was all he knew to do. Roy himself wasn't so sure how much longer they would have to go through with this. Even he was getting tired of finding nothing but bodies. They couldn't all be dead, damn it! They couldn't be! It wasn't fair...


	25. So Close, So Far

**Where do we begin  
with this unhappy ending?  
Where do we begin  
after all that we've done?**

Abra Moore; "Family Affair"

* * *

There was light. Just past the dilapidated ceiling of this fallen fortress, there was light. It was out there, just beyond his reach. The sun had risen to kiss a warm blue sky. He could see it in his mind. Flowers openly embraced the morning and birds sang its praises while clouds, like the foam of ocean waves, drifted lazily across a gentle azure sky. He couldn't see it, but he could sense it. Outside of the cold, black prison that Harry Potter found himself in once again was a world full of life, color and warmth. 

Warmth. Harry had anything but at that moment in time. He knew the blood loss was a result of his unique bodily chill, but knowledge was not going to help heal his leg, nor was it going to keep him from bleeding to death within the next few hours. He was almost certain he was nearing death. Already that which he could see faded in and out of his vision, regardless of the assistance provided to him from his glasses, which were dirty, and one lens was definitely busted beyond all possibility of repair, whether it be magical or manual. The only warmth and apparition of hope allowed to him were the snaking beams of sunlight that made their way every once in a while through the broken rafters of the makeshift ceiling. Something up there had managed to break through the rubble just enough to allow some fresh air and light into the dungeon area. Unfortunately, along with the light and air came increasing amounts of rain. Some fell directly through the hole and onto the ground as it came straight from the sky. However, along with those refreshing droplets, came jets of ice cold water that ran down those same broken rafters. All of it was guided into the dungeon areas, where Harry quickly realized that there were no drains to lead it all back out again. If this went on for much longer while he lay in his immobile state, Harry realized that he might find himself drowning before the sun set.

He looked over to his right to find the black dog, still lying immensely still. The only evidence that it was even alive was the fact that its back rose up and down with the inhaling and exhaling of air from its lungs. Other than that, the dog was out cold, and there was nothing Harry could do that would revive it. Sighing, he rolled his head back over to stare at the ceiling in hopes of catching an extra wisp of light. It was the only thing there to remind him that there was still a world beyond the dark caverns and musty corridors that he had known for the past few months. He'd been so close to rescue, and now, here he was, trapped. A prisoner of fate, which was even more inescapable than the captures prior to this.

It seemed that he would never find a real victory anymore. Harry Potter; the jinxed wizard. Son to two of the most famous witches and wizards of their time; brutally murdered in an attempt to save their son.

'What if they knew that I would be the failure I am now?' Harry thought to himself as he stared dumbly toward the sky. 'I'm not something to be proud of. I'm not anything except for a walking curse. Every life I've ever touched was either ruined or ended because of it.'

A small line of dust fell from the rafters above, and Harry found himself coughing as the irritating substance aggravated his weakening lungs and eyes. He couldn't move his arms at all anymore, therefore he was left to blink what he could out of his eyes. Eventually, he gave up. Expressionless and helpless, he lay in the growing amount of mud and water, mixed bit by bit with his own blood as time lagged on.

"I'm sorry," he sighed after a few moments of sorrowful consideration. "For everything..."

He closed his eyes and realized that perhaps letting the darkness take over was a wiser decision than waiting out a rescue.

* * *

Sirius awoke to find himself in his dog form. Why he had transformed, he wasn't sure. Perhaps it had been the sheer shock of the moment, or some internal defensive mechanism that Sirius wasn't aware that he had breached. Perhaps he had subconsciously intended to change and was only now aware of the results of his actions. Nevertheless, it really wasn't the reason why he had transformed that made him truly question his current condition, it was the reason why he couldn't change _back_. 

Growling against the pain in his back, Sirius managed to lift his head. There was no sign of an exit anywhere, and the only openings in the ceiling were so small that nothing would be able to fit through them, save for light and rain. Peering around, he inwardly cursed his inability to determine colors in his canine state. Such surroundings were hard enough to make out as it was with all of the dust and smoke that was in the air, and now with this hindrance of sight it made finding decent footing all the more complicated.

Regardless, Sirius managed to pull himself up on all fours and stumble around for a few minutes. His eyes searched around the dungeons desperately for a sign of anything. An exit, an opening through which he could access the world outside even. He tried yelling for help, but all that came out instead was a sharp bark accented with a whimper of pain, caused by the agonizing throbs that tortured his weakened frame. He waited a few minutes, then tried again. Once more, his barks were cut short, and Sirius began to believe that he'd be trapped in there for a very long time.

He began to lie down in submission when suddenly a human cough came to his ears. Sirius' head picked up, immediately ignoring the pain that it caused him. In all of his worry and desperation to escape, he had forgotten something very important: Harry.

Cursing himself, Sirius lifted his frame and tried to follow the sounds of ragged breathing. A sneeze threw him slightly off of his feet, and after a few minutes of getting his senses back together, Sirius realized that he would have a better chance sniffing his godson out then actually looking and listening for him.

Like a bloodhound, he pressed his nose to the ground and began to search. Within a few minutes Sirius came across a section of beaten floor that was illuminated well enough for him to see what was lying on it. Amongst the tattered debris, puddles, and dirt, lay a mud covered arm. It was rigid and cold, and unresponsive when Sirius nipped at the fingertips. He whimpered and tried to pull a few collapsed rafters away from the body with his jaw. He found one jammed firmly within the left shin of the body, and another just over his chest. The shin had been pinned for some time he could tell, but the other rafters had been a recent collapse. Sirius whimpered again and slipped in past the wooden frames to try and find the rest of the body.

Nose first, Sirius was able to nuzzle an opening through the debris just large enough to slip through. There, he found a nose-full of black hair that reeked of sweat and blood. Another sneeze wracked the dog's body, causing him to yelp once more and reveal numerous broken ribs as well as a bruised back. He paused momentarily to catch his breath and balance, then continued on crawling until he reached a wide enough opening where he could stand on all fours.

Not knowing what else to do, Sirius lay his head over Harry's chest to make sure he was breathing. So far, so good, but his breathing was shallow and sounded watery. Sirius understood that Harry might not make it much longer under these harsh conditions. There wasn't much he could do, however. With his back and ribs in such a rut, Sirius realized that transforming back into his human body would only make his injuries worse, but as a dog he did not own the advantage of being able to call out to anyone who may be up on the surface to let them know that he was down here.

Unable to make a definite decision, Sirius did that which he knew he could do. Clearing the rafters away from his godson's beaten form as best he could, he started to make all attempts possible in reviving him. At first he nudged the boy's head, but that didn't work. Harry's head only flopped over to the side limply, his expression still unresponsive. Whimpering in confusion, Sirius tried nipping at his extremities again, but they were so cold that they had actually gone numb. Harry wouldn't have ever felt a thing in his arms or legs, even if Sirius had decided to rip one of them off.

Now growling and pawing the ground in anger, Sirius tried barking. Nothing happened, at least not that he could see, and so Sirius resorted to the last thing he wanted to do. Prepping himself for a very bad aftertaste, he arched his head and began licking Harry's face around his eyes and nose in hopes that it might wake him up. It took some time, but after a few minutes there was a noticeable change of countenance.

Coughing and sputtering, Harry winced away the sudden onrush of numbness and opened his dazed eyes. Sirius yipped happily, but soon quieted when Harry winced again. He was covered in mud and blood. Also, it appeared to Sirius that Harry had also suffered a head injury during or sometime after he had fallen, and was now feeling the full effects of it.

Harrumphing, the dog lay down next to Harry's side, nudging his head now and then to keep him from going back to sleep. The young man coughed once before forcing his head to turn so that he might find his temporary rescuer.

"Sirius?" asked a weak, fluidy voice. Unable to talk, the dog simply whimpered while wagging his tail. Harry didn't speak again, he merely grinned slightly while forcing one of his arms over to comfort his companion. It was really all they had for one another. The dog's whimper and the boy's tender touch.

"I think we're going to be waiting here a while."

* * *

"I told you!" screamed Yanni, over and over again. His rage was so severe that his Romanian accent was coming through in his voice, making it all the more difficult for Hagrid to understand the man's words, aside from his frequent obscenities, that is. "You can't work on the pile! You're _too big_! I _told_ you, you would cause a collapse! And now look! You've made half of the damned ceiling cave in! If anyone was stuck down there, they're most likely dead or dying by now!" 

Scalding hot watermelon tears dripped down Hagrid's wrinkled face. His gaze was diverted only to the ground. He didn't have the strength to look into anyone's face right now.

In his eagerness to help those who were assumed to be trapped in the lowest levels of the keep, Hagrid had snuck away from the med tents and began moving rubble. He'd done fine for an hour. Many were now actually able to see into the basement through small holes and openings in the rafters, provided to them solely through Hagrid's massive strength and willingness to help. However, after stepping on a particularly weakened support beam provided by the workers who were digging persistently overnight, his massive frame had predictably caused a collapse in the rafters, sending massive pounds of debris and beams down into the basement, fully burying at least a good half of the area below.

The intense cracking of lumber and other such elements of the keep brought on the attention of many, if not all of the workers. Few said anything at first upon seeing the massive giant lumbering clumsily and quickly out of the heap, as if he actually had a chance of slinking away unnoticed.

Yanni, however, blinded by rage and reddened in the face due to the factor of raising blood pressure, did not falter in taking upon himself the first chance to completely humiliate the giant right in front of half of the squad.

"You damn, bloody fool! Now go work where I assigned you before I throw your ass out of here!"

Hagrid, not saying a word, walked slowly back to the bay where the element-ridden tents were flailing madly in the sea breeze. No one said anything, but many hearts went out to the big man. He had only been trying to help. Certainly his inability to do anything certainly made him all the more angry with himself, but no one really blamed him. All save Yanni, who blamed any and all regardless of circumstances, unless it was himself.

After a few minutes of quiet consideration, everyone went back to work. Hagrid too. There had been a minor setback, but after all of the progress allowed to them by way of the gentle giant's eager hand, it was worth while. At least now they had a fighting chance of getting down there within the next twelve hours.

It was all they could ask for.

_

* * *

TBC...almost there, folks! _


	26. Collapse

They were now forty-eight hours into the rescue effort. More dead than alive had turned up over the course of those lagging hours, and all hope was near diminished as dawn came a second time for the R. O. squads. Rain mixed with ice as it fell, leaving any extremities, whether in affective duty or at rest, numbed to the core. Spells of seeking and location were lost on benumb lips and chewed away by chattering teeth. Sweat blended together with rain and blood in wild surges of inhumane will and strength, but in the end all efforts were repaid only by finding faces with sightless eyes staring back at them, allowing tears to soon join the already deadly mix of mental and physical stress that pounded relentlessly upon those working the grounds. Tears were shed even for those of the other side; for all there knew that these people, regardless of their viewings and beliefs, were still undoubtedly loved by someone. They too were people; mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, friends, neighbors, and even old schoolmates. They were people, and although that fact was often lost in the events of war, they are never overlooked by the eyes of tragedy. Efforts were taken to obtund the situation, but it would be impossible to heal or make better of any long term damages faced by the people working these rigorous and all too extensive shifts. Really, only time would tell. One thing was certain, when all of this was over with, they would all walk away as victims.

R. O. Leader Roy Ochoa was no exception to these circumstances. He awaited news while perched upon a beaten up Chevy; an old Ministry car used in problematic terrain or extreme emergencies, and only when nothing better could be found. A cigarette was in one hand and a flask filled with scotch in the other. His eyes were bloodshot; one twitched spasmodically from time to time as his body quivered from minor convulsions on occasion. With his nerves now noticeably getting the better of him, many were predicting that Ochoa would be the next one carried away on a stretcher. It wasn't until Zayara Mondragon ordered him to a med-tent that everyone else allowed their worries to ease, at least as far as their commander was concerned. However, there was still little to be done for the countless dead and several others still missing. More and more volunteers poured in by the hour to relieve those who were digging, yet it never seemed to be enough. The consistent reminders that openly mocked their uncountable failures were beginning to press all too deeply into their minds. That is, until a call sounded out of the rubble from a worker who had been trying to create useful openings in the ceiling of what most had anticipated to be the basement-dungeon area.

"We've got some live ones down here!"

This immediately captured the attention of others, and soon half of the multitude stood gathered around a tiny hole in the ceiling of MacMurphy's dungeons. What their eyes saw astonished even the most hardened veterans of the Rescue and Recovery outfits. Below their feet lay a black dog who barked relentlessly for their attention. By his side was a shattered body that at a first glance could not be immediately classified as dead or alive. The dog, however, was not overlooked, for one person immediately recognized the battered creature as the animagi form of Sirius Black. Another made the estimate that the body at his side was none other than his godson; Harry Potter. When this information was relayed to the Ministry o Magic and other authority figures who were on sight, the go ahead was quickly given. "Do whatever you can to get them out of there."

Laborers called Zayara Mondragon and Roy Ochoa, who immediately began putting together teams. R. O. Operatives began using spells to clear access rafters and debris out of the way. When those failed, many resorted to physical power. Someone had suggested bringing in teams of hippogriffs to assist in the work effort, but with the time limit they had to get their new vics, a team of burden bearing beasts would never arrive in time. They would have to make due with what they had. No argument was given. They all understood the newfound severity of the situation. TO find the dead was one matter, but to find the living only to get to them too late, that was an entirely different matter. This rescue would determine everything for all contributing personnel. If they didn't make this one, they had failed. This was it. This was everything Ochoa and his guys needed. They couldn't fail. Not this time.

Within minutes of locating their star survivors, Ochoa'a team had successfully cleared an opening in the dungeons wide enough for a small team of MMTs to fit through. As of that moment, it was up to Mondragon and her people to go down there, assess the situation at hand, triage if necessary, and bring their victims back alive. If there was more than one she would be forced to call in more, but as of that moment, Mondragon was concerned only with the two present patients that were now being laid fully in her hands. She and a team of four others had themselves equipped to the max within minutes. One by one, they levitated down tot he dungeon to prepare for all necessary procedures.

"Be careful," Ochoa cautioned her. Zayara said nothing, just winked as she levitated down into the murky darkness of the dungeons as her partner gave the go ahead.

"What do we have, Tanis?" she asked before her feet had even touched the ground. Zayara immediately began to push her way through the fallen rafters, analyzing her patient in much the same way as a muggle paramedic. She checked for a pulse, heart rate, and blood pressure, and tested for muscle reflexes, even attempting to take an estimate of how much blood the boy had lost. "Tanis, get me an oxygen mask, an IV, and three bags of regenerative elixirs; one with sanguine fluid, another for dehydration, and another for malnutrition." Tanis responded in perfect mechanical order. Together, the two of them inserted needles and cast levitation spells for the IVs to float. "Tanis!" Zayara commanded as she stood to move to where the boy's head lay. "You and Kylie take him and get him to the med tents and then to a hospital. Apparate to Mungo's if possible."

"We can't," Tanis stated with a sigh.

Zayara frowned. "Why not?"

Her partner pointed to the shaft of wood that almost literally had the victim's shin split in two. The tibia was not quite fully exposed, and given a quick estimate Zayara was confident in her assumption that the wound was severely infected. The leg itself would most likely have to be amputated.

"Shit," she spat, overlooking the situation with delicate concern. "Keep his vitals stable. Kylie!"

The young trainee stiffened as her name was called. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Go find Roy. Tell him we're going to need a disassembly team down here and fast."

The woman nodded and was gone through the hole in the rafters in an instant. Zayara moved to see on the treatment of the dog.

It was a rather unnerving sight, really. The black dog was covered in mud and blood. It's body shook with every breath, and low, guttural growls issued from its throat every time medical lieutenant Price Gallagher came too close. The creature looked over at them from time to time as if to question why they weren't paying more attention to their more seriously injured patient. Sighing, Zayara kneeled down beside the dog, straining to ignore the threatening tone in the dog's snarls.

"Sirius," she spoke clearly. The dog's ears twitched slightly, but its gaze remained fixated on the young boy on the floor. "Sirius, let us help you." No reaction. Zayara swallowed and met the eyes of the lieutenant. Knowing the risk, she lifted up her hand and settled it gently between the dog's ears. There was a human underneath their. Overprotective, but still intelligent, and somewhere he knew the risks of him staying there when Harry needed all of the medical attention these technicians could give to him. "Sirius, you can't stay here. I know you want to, but we need to treat your godson. We can't have you to worry about down here as well. It'll be a danger to your godson and yourself." She paused. There seemed to be a slight softening in the dog's eyes. "He needs you to cooperate with us." After a few seconds, Zayara nodded. Price, understanding, lifted a syringe and slipped it into Sirius' foreleg. At that second, however, all hell broke loose. The dog snarled and snapped. White foam like venom dripped from sharp canines, and a maddened red glare lit what was once softened, brown eyes. Price's arm was pinned against his chest in seconds, and he was being dragged against his will towards Harry's limp form.

Zayara cursed and lifted her wand. She paralyzed the creature instantly, and with some help from Tanis was able to free Price from the gargantuan grip of the dog's jowl. Panting and sweating, the bleeding paramedic kicked himself away from the beast as quickly as he could, favoring his right arm which was now bleeding heavily from the wrist to mid forearm. He would need treatment for an injury of that degree. Zayara bound the wound as tightly as she could then ordered him and Salem Rugg, a medical practitioner for over twenty years but with no rank to speak of, to take the paralyzed animal to the surface. "Give him a sleeping elixir and then treat him for possible injuries. Make sure he's mentally stable. An attack like that isn't normal, even for him in this condition."

Salem nodded. He finished the injection that Price had started before their ghastly ordeal, then with his fellow paramedic leaning on his shoulder and a limp animal under his arm (Salem was a strong and rather large man) they floated up through the opening above, leaving Zayara and Tanis with one very injured boy.

"What do we do?" asked Mondragon's partner, as if to emphasize this fact even furthermore. Zayara ran a hand through her hair and sighed. Kylie should have been back by now. They were running out of time.

* * *

Remus was capable of sitting up without assistance when they dragged a strange looking animal through the opening of the main medical tent. Two MTs as well as a flurry of doctors were working on the creature that was so mysteriously important to them all as far as the observer in the corner could tell. Remus couldn't understand for the life of him why it was so significant to them all that this creature survive. Was the death toll so serious now that they were giving first class medical attention to local strays? What was going on? What was he missing? Surely there was a larger piece to this puzzle. 

There was no way he could get any answers, of course, with half of the medical staff milling about. So, he decided to lay back and observe the situation as casually as possible. Perhaps, with some luck, things would make sense in their own time. Not that luck was all that familiar to him these days.

A tap on his shoulder, however, provided an immediate distraction to his already disconcerted mind. Looking up, Remus saw a familiar and welcome face peering down at him. There was no smile to be found, but that wasn't really a very uncommon factor. Especially not in this place.

"Hagrid!" he greeted as cheerfully as possible. "When did you get in?"

"Been here for a while, professor," the giant responded glumly. Remus sighed and shook his head.

"I'm not a professor anymore," he complained lightly. "And you never bothered to visit me?"

"Didn' know yeh were here till just now,"

"I was joking, Hagrid." Remus' grin quickly faded. So much for the light facade. There was no use in pretending that something wasn't wrong. "Have you rested at all?"

The giant shook his head. "No," he replied as his beetle black eyes fell upon their newest patient.

"You should go then. Rest up. You look as though you need it."

A long paused followed that statement. Hagrid sat almost completely transfixed with the medics working on the creature that had been brought in not too long ago. Remus followed his gaze, not completely understanding the significance of the giant's actions, whether intentional or unintentional. At least, not until...

"Hagrid?"

Without missing a beat, the giant spoke up. "They found him, professor."

His brow knitted in confusion, and for the first time, Remus Lupin didn't notice that someone had called him by his former title in casual conversation. "Found who?"

"Harry."

Remus paused to consider this. His eyes diverted all of a sudden unintentionally to the creature on the table. Suddenly, everything made sense. The madness, the constant hollering outside...they'd finally rescued that which they had come for! It also explained the dog; or Sirius, more likely. He must have found Harry just before the collapse. But if they had found them both, why wasn't Harry in the med tents as well? Were they just now bringing him in? Maybe in another tent? Or perhaps...something else?"

"Where is he?"

Hagrid shook his head, sighing sadly.

"They're still pullin' him out."

"Of the keep?"

The giant nodded. Remus could only sigh. If they weren't moving Harry right away then something was definitely wrong.

"Have they told you anything?"

Again, Hagrid just shook his head. Remus groaned and slammed his skull into the headstand angrily. His patience were wearing thin already with this eternal guessing game. Now they were deadly close to their goal, only to be left wondering if they were going to make it in time.

"How long?"

"Half an hour."

He watched helplessly as they carted Sirius off to another tent. He was still in his animagi form. Soon, night would be upon them, and with it the north Atlantic air and rain. If Harry's condition was serious, it would be nothing compared to what it was going to become.

Remus lay back down on his cot, and Hagrid moved back outside in hopes of finding a way to help the newly acquired rescue effort. Sleep would not come for the man. With Sirius in such severe conditions as it was, and Harry most likely fighting for his life, there was no way his raging mind would allow him to rest.

It was going to be a long, long night.

* * *

Zayara peered up through the opening a third time. Her patience were gradually fraying down into nothing. Where the hell was Kylie? They needed that team down here! As medics, neither Zayara or Tanis could determine whether or not destroying this rafter would be prudent or provoke a massive cave in! That was why Zayara had sent their new intern to retrieve the team. Either something had happened or Kylie had forgotten. Regardless, Zayara would make sure that before the night was over that her new intern never worked in the medical field again, magical or muggle. 

"Damn it!" she spat. The once humid, stuffy air was being drawn out and being replaced with cold, damp air. Soon there vic would be dead, either from pneumonia or blood loss, whichever came first at this point.

"Zayara!"

The chief medic whirled on one heel to face down her assistant.

"What?" She snapped, more harshly than she had originally intended. No words were needed, however, upon seeing the look in her partner's eyes. The boy was dying. Their time had run out. It was time to make a very risky decision.

All at once, Zayara removed her wand from her belt, threw Tanis over the body, and sent a spell riveting up the wooden shaft. Bright white light pulsated through every fiber and splinter. Within seconds it had exploded, leaving nothing, not even an inkling of proof that it had ever existed...save for the gaping hole in their vic's leg.

"Get him out of here!" She yelled while wiping some blood out of her eyes. Shards had flown everywhere, and she had left herself completely unprotected. Tanis was shaken but otherwise fine, and as far as their patient went, well, splinters and cuts were the least of his worries right now. Tanis cupped the boy's torso in his arms, when without warning a high pitched whining from stone and wood pressing firmer and firmer together began to scream outward in an ethereal death song. Dust snaked through the overhead debris, and shouts could he beard from those on the surface.

With one horrendous, vociferous snap, the ceiling caved in on top of them.

* * *

_All right. That only took a friggin' eternity._

_Sorry if I lost you guys in some of the medical terminology, or just completely confused you all together. I have no experience or education in the medical field, but I've watched enough of Third Watch to know standard procedure._

_This probably isn't all that great, mostly because I don't give a damn anymore. I'm not even going to take the effort to proof read it. This story is getting so tedious...I don't know how you guys have the willpower to keep up with it..._

_But I thank you nonetheless. Thank you everyone! Especially Dianne who always makes me smile with every review. Many hugs to you, hon! And I promise I'll get to reading your story again! I've been so busy I can't find my head some days. I keep loosing it in all those clouds. (winks)_

_Take care, everyone! TBC..._


	27. Some Things Never Change

Letter to the Readers;

Okay, so I wasn't the only one having 9/11 flashbacks. I'll honestly admit that that was completely unintentional. I don't even live in New York! I do apologize for the story lagging, but I'm glad so many of you held out until the end. May I honestly state that most of you have more patience for me than I do? Isn't that sad? Thank you, however. Especially to Dianne, who has been such a loyal reviewer, and a very good and supportive friend. Hugs to you, and more reviewers than you cold ever imagine!

On another note, as much as I wish certain at this point, this may, or may not be, my last Harry Potter story. I have one more, slightly faded plotline in the making somewhere in this washed up little brain of mine. But it'll be a few months in the making, providing someone else hasn't done this already. We've preordered Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince which I am hesitant about since it is guaranteed Sirius-less and will most likely contain more angst than even **I** can handle. (Gasp! Say it isn't so!)

In the mean time, to keep myself occupied and from getting rusty, I'll be working a "Third Watch" story with hopefully one of the most intricate plots I can come up with. (I've been reading lots of Cop-per books. I have ideas. Be afraid!) I will also (hopefully) be updating an "Incredibles" story as well as starting up a James/Lily romance short that I started eons ago. (I'm really sorry, Quiet Infinity!)

Wish me luck, as I am going to need it. I hope this last chapter is satisfactory to you all.

Eladriewen,

* * *

Where do we begin, picking up the pieces?  
Where do we begin after all that's been said?  
How do we begin to say 'I still love you?'  
How do we begin to repair this family affair?  
Don't take it away from me.  
Don't take away the one love that matters.  
And we'll get well, you'll see.  
We're all we have; we are family.

Abra Moore: "Family Affair"

* * *

Coughing and sputtering, Zayara Mondragon looked up into what used to be a dungeon ceiling. In one moment's time, it had been conveniently resized into a gaping hole, large enough to remind the chief MT and her shaken partner that there was a life beyond this darkness, and a star filled sky beyond the thick ocean-storm clouds that had once hovered like death over their heads. Clean, sea washed air blew down on them from the north Atlantic, for the first time caressing, and not beating tired bodies, in an embrace that only mother nature reserved for the most favored of her children. Taking in one, two, three deep, rejuvenating breaths, Zayara suddenly felt more strengthened in those few minutes than she had in the forty-eight plus hours she had been working while at this sight. The time had come. Some god, somewhere, had deemed their efforts suitable enough for some satisfactory results to come from a tragedy that so many were sure no one would walk away from. 

"Hullo!" came a familiar voice from the improv sky roof overhead. Both medics peered up to see R. O. Leader Roy Ochoa leering at them from the safe position of a sturdy beam that had somehow never fallen from the ceiling. It's southern half lay embedded in pounds of shale, which was probably one of the reasons that it was still holding strong against the man's weight. "Here's a few faces we thought we'd never see again."

Zayara, at first, thought to call up a similar greeting, but her moods quickly changed when she remembered why they had been left stranded down here all this time.

"Where the hell is my trainee?" the chief spat. No time for luxurious idle chat. Zayara had a job to do. Roy rolled his eyes. Typical.

"What trainee?"

"You know which one I'm talking about, Ochoa. Kylie. The one I sent to get your disassembly team?"

A sudden frown danced across the handsome Spaniard's face. He scratched the new found stubble on his chin and pondered for a moment. His sanity had been coming and going for the past twelve hours, but he was pretty sure his memory was still in tact.

"She never said anything to me. No one did."

If this didn't make the chief medic mad, the fact that her partner had been calling her name for the past few seconds without remorse did. Angrily she turned and spewed out a shower of curses and ungodly utterances that made many of the men stop and gape at her amazingly advanced vocabulary. Tanis seemed used to this, however, for he barely flinched as his senior supervisor continued on and on with her rant. He'd worked with her for nearly three years now. He knew that these outbursts were often nothing more than her way of venting stress. She would be done in a few minutes and afterward he would be free to speak.

"What do you want?" she asked after taking a few deep sighs. Tanis looked up, completely unaffected, as Zayara assumed he would be.

"We're losing him, chief."

Zayara nodded. Her gaze turned back to Ochoa, who repeated the process back to his own associates. Silent communication. They were bringing their last survivors up from the shallows. This was it. After this, they were done.

After this, they could go home.

Tanis and Zayara eased the young, paling teen onto a stretcher, and with their wands floated him up. IVs, fluid sacs, healing spells, elixirs, all in tact and working properly. Ochoa's team floated it over where a group of well trained emergency response witch doctors were waiting to treat the latest and last victim. A few moments later, Tanis and Zayara floated up after their patient. Dirty, winded, tired and sore, but alive. For a moment. the R. O. Leader and their Medical Chief shared a sweet embrace, before pulling apart to grin sheepishly at their fellow staff members.

"Good job," Ochoa whispered into her ear before they parted ways. "Now can I get that date I've been holding out for?"

Mondragon rolled her eyes and headed back to the med tents. Ochoa watched after her, a confident smirk on his face. Tanis, who was a few feet behind the man, raised a questioning eyebrow.

Licking his lips, Ochoa pointed towards the MT chief with his stubble laden chin. "She's into me."

Tanis rolled his eyes, shaking his head on his way back to the med tents.

* * *

Remus watched as they pulled the latest victim into the med tents. He was prepped for immediate apparation, along with one witch doctor and the MT chief. With a deafening pop that made his pounding head throb all the more, the three were gone, but not before he had been perfectly capable of getting a thorough glance at the patient. He sighed a few seconds after their disappearance act, partly from relief, partly from heightened nerves. The patient was Harry; they'd found him. But was Harry going to be there in a few hours? God only knew how extensive the boy's injuries were, and even with the aide of magic, some injuries could simply not be touched, at least not by healing magic alone. Sometimes muggle procedures were brought in. Perhaps full muggle medical staffs if the case called for such an occasion. But even muggle medicine had its limitations, and in the most extreme cases, families were called in for final goodbyes and the arrangement of procedure and burial details. It wasn't pleasant, but it was how it happened. 

The extent of Harry's injuries was not known to Remus, and he wisely assumed that any and all information he inquired about would be met with classified details or simple lack of knowledge. Either way, he would be left in the dark. The cold, impenetrable, mocking darkness. Oh, how Remus hated it. He'd been kept in the dark about so much before, but this was unbearable. Some secrets, no matter how important, could not be kept. Someone needed to be there for Harry while Sirius underwent his own procedures. And besides, who better than he?

Calling for a nurse, Remus relayed to her that he felt well enough to leave the premises of the medical tents. When she hesitantly gave him permission to do so, he immediately searched out the person he expected to be one of the chief magical medical technicians, or at least one of the close associates.

"Excuse me," Remus waved a hand around in the air so that he might be noticed.

"May I help you?" asked the sandy blond haired man Remus had been addressing. He recognized the man from earlier, his name was Tanis. He had helped Tonks before the collapse of the structure, and had been with the chief MT at the time.

"Yes, I must ask you about your latest patient."

"Supervisor's with him, sir," Tanis replied, his gaze drifting to his right toward the newly gathering MT recruits. They were chatting about idly when, in reality, they were too be writing out reports and filing medical inventory sheets. Tanis sighed. "I'm afraid that's all I can tell you."

"Do-do you know what hospital?"

The MT blinked a few times while eyeing the ground in careful concentration. "I'm sure its Mungos. They're the best when it comes to pretty much any extensive injuries, magical or otherwise. Try there."

"Thank you, sir."

Tanis walked away, paying no attention to the loud pop that sounded a few feet behind him. Probably just some of the debris snapping, he assumed. Perusing through a weeks' worth of inventory sheets, Tanis continued on with his daily procedures, casting disdainful glances in the direction of the rookie multitude.

* * *

Remus' first sense of apparating after so many head and other bodily injuries was not a pleasant one. He ended up on the floor of the basement lobby, which was probably a good thing considering he could have ended up splicing, or half way between a wall and a lift shaft. Or worse. A group of people immediately pushed away to give him some room, a noble few even leaned over to help him up and dust off his exhausted, beaten frame. 

"Where you come in from, stranger?" asked a man with an accent that was definitely not from anywhere in England, or even the United Kingdom.

"Coming in from Scotland," Remus assured the stranger. Still winded, Remus managed to gently pull away from the man's spidery fingers which were only less startling than his marble bright eyes.

"Scotland, eh?" the man sniffed, turning his gaze toward the monitor's desk where so many were waiting to hear news on...something. "Yeah, that's where my Sasha be afore I was gettin' called all the way out here. Somethin' bout some mission. Didn' go right, now theys thinkin she hurt." He sniffed again and rubbed his hands together. Remus blinked. The accented drawl was definitely from some major American city. New York, perhaps? L. A.? No. Chicago?

"The Keep..." Remus sighed. With a sense of duty that was heavier than his friend's brogue, he pushed through the crowd, ushered himself forward until he was more heaved upon than pushed into the desk, where one very haphazard looking nurse stood with her hair in a mess and her elegant white doctoring robes drenched in sweat. On a normal day, Remus was certain she would be a very attractive woman. Tonight, however, she looked the same as the rest of them. Haggard, misplaced, slightly unnourished, and desperately searching for a way out.

"Sir, you're going to have to-"

"A boy was brought in here!" Remus interrupted. He had no time for her damned Mungos protocol.

"Sir, you need to-"

"I can't wait! I need to know his condition."

"You and everyone else, sir. Now please-"

"Remus!"

He turned his head and found a wave of pink with tear-stemmed green eyes flying toward him through the crowd. Tonks' awkward appearance was enough to send most of them spiraling out of her way, but the selected few who did not have time or did not bother to regard her approach were literally flung out of the way. Thin, weak arms wrapped around his neck while she sobbed bitterly into his shoulder.

"Ma'am? Sir?"

Tonks waved the desk attendant away and dragged Remus by his arm through the lobby and up through a corridor.

"He's been in the O. R. since he arrived," she started, wasting no time. It was one of the nicer qualities of Tonks. She knew Remus well enough to understand why he was here, and what was critical for him to know, if he was going to know anything at all. "We don't know anything."

"Who? Sirius or Harry?"

"Harry." She stopped to catch her breath and to toss him into the nearest lift. Following after, she continued on with informing him of everything that had happened. "Sirius is out of surgery. He's back in his human form. He's conscious and fully comprehends everything. All he wants right now is to know how Harry's doing."

'Understandable,' Remus reasoned to himself within the jumbled confines of his head.

"Naturally, since we don't know anything there's not much we can tell him. Just reassure him..." She paused. "And that's not doing much good."

Sighing, Remus allowed himself to take some rest against the walls of the lift. So many things falling into place in his head. So little time to process it all. So much to hope for, and so much of _that_ was so desperately out of reach. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Eventually, fate had to stop picking on them and move to someone else. Didn't it? Wasn't there some unwritten rule in the non-existent book of life that this had to happen? A person could only keep their sanity after so much. Surely many of them were nearing, if not far past the breaking point.

"Harry's strong," he allowed himself to say after a while. "I'm sure-"

"Millie died."

His words were ripped out of his throat faster than he could breathe them. Millie? _The_ Millie? As in the Phoenix Squadron Millie? Jesus!

"What about Moody?"

A grim smile lit up Tonks' face momentarily.

"Strong as ever. They keep wanting to examine him, but he refuses. Just sits in the hall with an ice pack on his head and a frown on his gnarled face."

Remus could barely suppress a smile. "Who else is there?"

Tonks lifted a hand and began to tick off names. "Dumbledore is there."

"Of course."

"Snape. Moody."

"Naturally."

"Hagrid slipped in."

"Unnoticed?"

Tonks chuckled but continued. "The Weasleys. The Grangers."

"_The_ Grangers?"

"All four."

Remus nodded, then frowned as his brow knitted.

"Four?"

"The misses is expecting."

"...I see."

The lift stopped on the appropriate floor. Tonks filed out, helping Remus as he scuttled past and onto the floor.

"The Minister of Magic and a few associates."

"Bloody brilliant."

"And those of the Order who aren't gone or recovering."

"Meaning?"

"Diggle. Myself. Allen. A few others..."

"A few others?"

"Yes well, I didn't exactly go around taking names."

Remus sighed, nodding his head in understanding. It was really remarkable that he was able to assess this much of the situation, especially since he had just arrived. They turned a corner in time to catch the doctor walking past them with a rather stern face. Tonks and Remus exchanged glances before peering back toward the group of folk who had suddenly started in an uproar. She ushered him immediately into the crowd, where they found Dumbledore at last speaking with the Minister of Magic.

"Dumbledore!" Remus wasted no time in getting the headmaster's attention. The elderly man looked from the Minister to Remus and immediately disregarded his former company, much to the insult of Cornelius Fudge.

"Remus! So good to see you on your feet. Last I heard you were in the medical tents on the bay by the sight."

"I'm feeling much better now, sir."

"Good. Good." The elderly man wrapped an arm about Remus' shoulders and pulled him off to the side. Tonks, knowing better than to step between their private matters, adjusted herself to talking with Mrs. Weasley. The rest of the crowd continued on with business as usual, or so Remus assumed.

"The doctors just spoke with us," Dumbledore continued. "You know of Sirius' condition I would bet, yes?"

Remus nodded. "Tonks told me. He's expected to make a full recovery?"

"Yes," Dumbledore allowed the gentle grin that so suited him dance across his creased and weary face. "And Harry..."

"What about Harry?"

"There were some minor complications, Remus. With his leg."

Remus frowned. "They didn't take it, did they?"

"There was some debate over the issue...but no, they didn't take his leg, Remus. He's going to be taking a healthy number of elixirs, however, for some time so that it may heal properly. Dehydration and some bruises on his back, as well as a separated shoulder. He'll be here for a while, but he is expected to make a full recovery. Not a speedy one, but a full one."

The news was so much better than he could have hoped for! Remus might have fainted had Arthur Weasley not stepped up behind him to slap him on the back.

"Good news, isn't it?" He stated in a very stiff voice. Dumbledore nodded, the undying twinkle shining through even more so in light of recent events.

"Grand news, Arthur. Grand news indeed."

* * *

"The food in this place is horrible," Sirius sneered, laying his tray on the bed stand. Remus grinned, biting idly off an apple that he was proud to admit he had brought in himself. 

"I offered to pick you something up before I came."

Harrumphing, Sirius rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not hungry."

A laugh betrayed Remus' true feelings. With a finger pointed at his friend, he said with the brightest grin he could afford; "With all the things that you've been through in the past number of months, I would have thought that you'd have matured a little."

Sirius joined in the laughter. "You forget who you're talking to, old friend."

"Ah yes. I mistake you with James. _He_ learned from circumstances."

"Yes, James learned. I don't."

"And you never will, I'm sure."

"My dear Remus, some things never change."

Leaning over, Remus rolled the apple between the fingers of his right hand. He concentrated for a moment on the light as it shifted slightly on the floor. The sun was passing, and the days were slowly melting away. One into the other. The way they should. It had been so long since he last spent a day it in the warm, hospitable company of a friend that he had almost forgotten what if felt like. That sense of warmth, that sense of normality, that sense of unyielding affection that a person only received from true friends. That sense of welcome that was so uncommon, especially for someone like him.

"I've missed this, you know," he admitted at last.

Sirius peered up at his friend, looking utterly perplexed. "Missed what?"

"This." He paused, taking a moment to get lost in his thoughts, before coming back to the current situation. "Talking. Laughing. I'd forgotten what it's like."

There was a moment of silence in which the other man considered these facts. He nodded after a few moments, realizing that it had indeed been far too long since he too had shared in the comforts now presented to him.

"I think when we get out of here we should take a long vacation."

"You and Harry?"

Sirius nodded, then waited, a contemplative frown on his face. "Why not you come along?"

"I beg your pardon?" Remus laughed; slightly appalled, slightly embarrassed by the idea.

"The three of us. A vacation."

"I'll pass, thank you." He leaned back in his chair, sighing wistfully.

"Bah. You're no fun."

"Harry will provide you with plenty of that, I'm sure."

A grin creased Sirius' face. "Naw. He's got too much of his mother in him there. He's no risk taker. Harry's far too...grown up?"

"Mature?"

"Responsible."

There was a few moments of silence before a highly amused voice chimed in from behind Remus' seat.

"A Potter? Responsible? Isn't there a written rule against that somewhere?"

Both looked up to see young Harry smiling back at them from the doorway. There was a satchel in one hand and a cane in the other. Remus leapt up to take the parcel from his hands and ease him into a seat. The latter gesture Harry refused, too stubborn, they would deduce later on. A blame that could only be placed on Sirius.

"So they're letting you walk now?" Sirius asked, digging through the parcel which was apparently a wide variety of foods ranging from a batch of Hermione's famous brownies (which they all helped themselves to) and one of Hagrid's _in_famous fruit cakes (which made a nice paperweight for the doctor's papers). A canister of Bertie Blott's every flavor beans (which no true, fun-loving witch or wizard ever grows out of; and that includes Remus Lupin), and a various sorts of candies made and purchased by friends of Harry and Sirius alike.

"Yes well, after beating the doctor senseless with my cane it wasn't too hard to convince him," Harry said with a wide grin that negated any true sense of violence. Sirius laughed while choking down a vomit-flavored bean.

"You'll be admitted out before your elderly godfather here, won't you?" came Remus, just before a rainstorm of ear-wax flavored Bertie-beans came down upon him from the bed-ridden Sirius Black.

"Oh yes." Harry tried to refrain from snickering.

"You'll come visit though, won't you?" Sirius did his best puppy-dog face without actually changing into his animagus form.

"Naturally."

"Where will you be staying?" Remus continued, trying to keep the conversation from lacking any sense of intelligence.

"With Ron's family, of course."

"What about school?"

"Professor McGonagall and I talked about that already, actually."

Remus couldn't help but raise his eyebrows, impressed that so much had already been so swiftly taken care of.

"Old bat doesn't waste any time, does she?" Sirius grumbled, thumbing through the bean canister for something to eat; or for something to throw.

"So what are you doing, then?"

"McGonagall advised that I take the courses I missed via owl-mail. I kind of teach them to myself, and then I take the test and send it back to her when I'm done."

"Really?" Remus peered over at Sirius, who still had his face buried in the canister of candies. "Who's going to oversee your studies?"

"Well..." Harry trailed off, peering over at the still distracted Sirius.

Remus couldn't help but chuckle. "If you need help you'll know where to find me."

A relieved grin came over the boy's face instantly. "Thank you, Remus."

Both ducked in time to avoid the wave of dirt flavored bertie beans.

"Are you saying I can't educate my own godson?" Sirius argued, doing his best to actually look offended.

Remus and Harry exchanged a humored grin.

"Some things never change," said Harry with a sigh. No one said anything after, just enjoyed the company.

Some things never changed, but most things do. And sometimes, just sometimes, someone somewhere was lucky enough to earn back that which they once had lost.

The End...

* * *

Indeed...

I love you all!


End file.
